The Courier
by Mattykate
Summary: Sarah Roe is asked to become the new courier for the Culper Ring. She accepts, but what she doesn't know is that there's an old friend waiting for her in New York. Rated T for mild language, and suggestive content, but nothing explicit. Reviews welcomed and encouraged! Robert Townsend/OC (Because Townsend doesn't get enough love)
1. Chapter 1

"Rider approaching!" Sarah heard the call a few moments before she came to the outpost. She was met by three men, with muskets fixed.

"Identify yourself," the middle man demanded.

"I'm here on the invitation of lieutenant Caleb Brewster." Suddenly, there was a commotion and a head popped out of a tent a few feet away.

"Sally? That you?" Sarah smiled and brushed past the men to embrace Caleb. He still smelled like whiskey and fish, entirely unpleasant, but such a strong reminder of home that she didn't quite mind.

"So, this is where you've been hiding, eh, Brewster?" Sarah looked around at the small camp.

"Speak for yourself. I went back to see ya, and I find the tavern sold, and not even a notion of where you'd run off to."

"You can thank His Majesty for that. A squad of Royal officers came through and ransacked us a few years back. After that, Papa sold the place and sent me to York City to live with relatives."

"York City, eh? And, uh, your relatives let you dress like this?" Caleb motioned to the ragged, but comfortable, clothes she had bartered from a very drunk trapper.

"God no, I left that place first chance I got. Been living on a farm in Quebec, going on... God, going on three years. Now, are we going to spend all day chatting, or are you going to tell me why you tracked me down and dragged me here?" Caleb smiled sheepishly and led her into his tent.

"I have a confession to make, Sally. We already knew about all your adventures up north, and about your relatives in York City. That's why we brought you here. We want you to be our courier."

"Don't you have men for that? And who is we, by the way?" Sarah's hand wander to the knife in her belt.

"Relax, if you don't want to do it, we'll find someone else. But will you just listen to what I have to say? And put that knife away, why don't ya?"

Sarah lowered the knife she hadn't realized she raised, but kept herself between Caleb and the door, in case a quick getaway was needed.

"I'm listening."

Caleb finished his drawn out, yet vague description of the operation he and his fellow officers had concocted. He explained that they had already set up their ring of spies, but they were down a courier from New York to Setauket.

"You would go to the city under the guise of visiting your aunt and uncle. Then you would get the information from Culper Jr. and bring to Culper Sr. on Long Island."

"That's nearly fifty miles of neutral territory you're wanting me to travel through. What if I'm caught?"

"It's fifty-five, actually. And don't worry, the messages will be in code, and written in invisible ink." Sarah was beginning think this scheme of theirs could work.

"You say this Ben Tallmadge is a smart man? He can be trusted?"

"I've known his since we were schoolboys. He's as good as they come. I'd trust him with my life." Sarah sighed, then nodded.

"If I do this, I can't use my aunt and uncle as cover. We parted under unpleasant circumstances, and I won't be welcome in their house again." Caleb slumped. "However, during my stay in the city, I became well acquainted with the daughter of a wealthy merchant, Abigail Sawyer. I could go under the pretense of paying her a visit." Caleb smiled a cheeky smile.

"Is that a yes?" Sarah nodded and shook his hand.

"I'll do it."


	2. Chapter 2

Caleb offered her a tent for the night which Sarah gratefully accepted. She sent out a letter to Abigail, expressing her desire to visit, and then waited for the reply in camp for three days, memorizing the route from the city to Setauket and perfecting her story. Caleb helped when he could, although he was busy often.

"There'll be a checkpoint here, and here," he said one night, pointing to two stretches of road near the city. "You give them your pass and bat those pretty eyelashes, and they won't give you any trouble."

"I still don't see why I can't just cross here, where the river is low."

"Because they have patrols along the river, and it's safer for you to pass through the checkpoint and enter the city legitimately. You'll have more freedom once you're inside if you do it our way."

"I liked you better when you were drunk all the time," Sarah grumbled. Caleb laughed took a swig from his flask.

"Who says I'm not now?" Suddenly, he remembered something and pulled a book out of his coat. "Almost forgot. You got a letter." Sarah took the sealed note and read it quickly.

"It's from Abigail. She says she is married now, to a general no less. They have invited me to a party at their home tomorrow night."

"Well that's perfect. We'll get word to our man in New York to make contact with you."

"How will I know it's him?"

"He'll approach you, all you have to do is keep your head down and wait. And another thing, my sources tell me this friend of yours is sympathetic to the cause. Ben wants you to try and turn her if you can."

"Abby always was a bit of a rebel; I'll see what I can do. Anything else I should know?"

"I got you a room at the Rose and Thorn Inn. I know the owner and he won't give you any trouble. Your contact will be looking for a blue kerchief, but he's skittish. If you need to, mention the name Woodhull. That's our man on Long Island. He knows him, and he trusts him." Sarah nodded.

"Alright, I'll be on my way then. Wish me luck."

The trek from the outpost to the first checkpoint took only eight hours. Sarah stopped a mile or two before and changed into the dress that Caleb had scrounged up for her. It was an ugly, gaudy thing, but it served its purpose. As the checkpoint came into view, she rehearsed her story, pass in hand.

"Pass," the guard said. She presented the paper, forged by Caleb himself. The man looked it over, then looked at her.

"And what's your business in the city, Ms. Goodman?" Sarah smiled.

"Visiting an old friend. She was recently married; perhaps you know her husband, General Mercer?" The man just looked at her and handed the pass back.

"Next!" He shouted. Sarah forced herself to move on at a slow pace, but only when she was clear did she let herself breathe.

The second checkpoint went much like the first, although the guard was younger, and much friendlier. And then finally, the city came into view. It wasn't the largest, or the finest city in the colonies, but there was a sense of movement and happening that made it exciting.

After she had settled into her room at the Rose and Thorn, Sarah set out for Abigail's home. She came to a sturdy brick house with windows that seemed to stare at her as she approached the door. A maid answered her knock and escorted her to the nearby drawing room, where Abigail was having her afternoon tea. Abigail took one look at Sarah and sprung from her chair. Sarah was wrapped in a tight hug that she eagerly returned.

"Oh, Sarah, it is so good to see you again," Abigail cried. Sarah followed her to the couch and sat down.

"And you, Abby. Or should I say, Mrs. Mercer?" Abby blushed and flashed a large ring.

"Thank you, Sarah. And what about you? Have you still not found anyone to settle down with?"

"I'm afraid I have been otherwise engaged. But let's not talk about me. How is your family?"

"Father has been made an official supplier of the Royal army, and Johnathan was made full partner. He's engaged now to Alice Feeney."

"I am so happy for him. Alice will make a good wife."

"You would have too, if you had accepted his proposal." Sarah smiled and shook her head.

"As I told him, and you, before, it would never have worked. We would have grown to hate each other. Alice is much better suited for him, and him for her. I am happy for them both."

"Well, I must admit I am a little glad that you are not yet married, for that means tonight I can introduce you to all the eligible bachelors New York society has to offer." Sarah knew it would do no good to argue with her, so she smiled.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to make some new acquaintances."

"No, it would not, but, and pardon me for saying it dear, you simply cannot attend in that dress." Sarah looked down at the cheap, dirtied dress which she suspected Caleb had bartered off a prostitute and blushed.

"I'm afraid it's all I have." Abby put a sympathetic hand on Sarah's.

"Oh, my poor dear, what heartaches you must have endured these past three years. I can't bear to see you in such a state. Come." Abby stood and began leading her towards the door.

"Where are we going?"

"To see my tailor about altering a dress for you."

"Oh no, I couldn't…"  
"Nonsense, I insist. Mulligan's emporium is _the_ place to go. And I happen to know Mr. Mulligan personally."

"Hercules Mulligan?" Sarah had heard about the Irishmen through her acquaintances in the Sons of Liberty. She wondered if he was still the Patriot he had been before the war, or if his time in York City had changed him.

"Yes, Sarah. If anyone can help you, it's him."


	3. Chapter 3

The pair wasted no time in travelling to the tailor's shop on 23 Queen Street. Abby walked in with all the confidence of a queen, and was greeted by a handsome, red haired man.

"Mrs. Mercer, a delight to see you again," he said, his Irish accent slipping through.

"Mr. Mulligan, always a pleasure. And how is Elizabeth?"

"In high spirits. She is in Rhode Island, visiting her sister through the end of the month."  
"It is always good to spend time with family, wouldn't you agree, Sarah?"

"Yes," Sarah said, allowing herself to be pulled forward.

"Mr. Mulligan, this is my dear friend Sarah Goodman." Mulligan kissed her hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Goodman."

"The pleasure is all mine," Sarah replied with a curtsy.

"Sarah, this is Mr. Hercules Mulligan, the finest tailor in York City."

"You flatter me, Madam. Now, how can I be of service to you this fine morning?"

"I'm afraid Ms. Goodman has need of a new dress. I was hoping you could alter one of my old ones to fit her. I would need it by tonight." Mulligan inspected the dress and nodded.

"For you, Mrs. Mercer, it will be done before tea." Abigail excused herself to look at some hats, and Sarah was led to a measuring station. Mulligan began taking her measurements and making conversation.

"Abigail speaks very highly of you, Mr. Mulligan."

"She is a kind woman. And a credit to her class."

"Indeed, it was no surprise when I found she had married a general."

"And what about you, Ms. Goodman? Surely you have a man waiting for you back home." Sarah shook her head.

"I'm afraid Quebec did not offer much by way of eligible bachelors."

"I've heard the Rebels are gaining much support up there."

"It is difficult to be surrounded by people who do not share your views. Those in the minority must fight together."

"I believe I know what that's like."

"I hope you will consider me your ally in the city, Mr. Mulligan. As I said, we must fight together." A silent understanding passed between them as Abigail came back.

"Mr. Mulligan, I wonder if you might add some of this ribbon to the dress. It's just Sarah's color, don't you think?" Abigail held up a light green ribbon for reference.

"You have a keen eye, Mrs. Mercer. I shall add it myself."  
"You are too kind, sir."

"Now, Ms. Roe, I believe I have everything I need. I shall have the dress sent to you as soon as it is finished. Good day, ladies." As they left Abigail leaned in.

"Is he not handsome? Why, if Elizabeth hadn't snatched him up so quickly, I would not have minded being a tailor's wife." Sarah giggled, but could not disagree.

"Elizabeth is a very lucky woman."

"I hate her," Abby joked.

When they returned to the house, they found a note from Abigail's husband, explaining that he had been called away for an emergency meeting and would see her at the party that night. Abigail sighed and burned the note.

"I had hoped to introduce you before the party, but I suppose it cannot be helped."

"Your husband is a busy man."

"Yes, General Clinton himself holds him in very high regard."

"How did the two of you meet?"

"Mr. Mulligan introduced us, at a party he hosted."

"You seem very fond of Mr. Mulligan." Abigail shifted nervously.

"We have known each other a long time."

"Then you must know about his days as a member of the Sons of Liberty," Sarah said, watching her friend's reaction closely. She shrugged.

"Although I cannot condone their actions, I admire any person who stands up for what they believe to be right."

"And I have always appreciated that in you, Abby. But I wonder, what do _you_ believe to be right?"

"Why are you asking me this, Sarah?" Sarah could see she was growing scared, but she had to believe her friend would make the right decision.

"I didn't just come to the city to visit you, Abigail. I'm here on the special assignment from George Washington himself." Abigail stood suddenly.

"Stop it!" She cried. "Do you know what you're saying?" Sarah tried to go to Abby, but she backed away.

"Abby, please. I've known you since were children. I know you can't really approve of what the British are doing. You have the chance to change history and you wouldn't even have to leave your home."

"You're asking me to spy on my own husband?"

"All I am asking is that you watch and listen, and if you discover something of interest, you write me a letter. I can be here within two days."

"I… I can't. What if I'm caught?"

"You are the wife of a general in the Royal army, and a personal friend of General Clinton. No one will even suspect you of harboring secrets."

"And if my letters are intercepted?" Sarah tried to keep the excitement out of her voice.

"You will write with invisible ink, and in code. They won't know what they are reading." Abigail paced, wringing her hands.

"But I'm not brave. Not like you." Sarah took Abigail's arms and looked her in the eye.

"Yes, you are. And what's more you are sneaky. Who else could have stolen one of Mrs. Richard's prized plums right from under her nose?" Abigail giggled despite herself.

"To be fair, she was half blind and deaf as a post." Sarah laughed, remembering the sight of Abby running like a wild-woman from the yard. Abby nodded. "Alright, I'll do it. But I don't know what I will be able to tell you. Edward doesn't tell me anything, and he does his work in the study upstairs."

"Anything concerning troop movements, supplies, or unusual activities. Trust your instincts, Abby." They were interrupted by the maid coming in with their tea.

The dress arrived promptly in the middle of their tea, just as promised. Abigail insisted Sarah try it on right away. After some pulling and pinning, they got her in. It fit perfectly, and the ribbon around the neckline brought out the flecks of green in her brown eyes. They spent the rest of the afternoon doing each other's hair and applying makeup. Sarah was sharply reminded of her happier times in York City, when she was just a girl and not on a highly sensitive mission for the enemy.


	4. Chapter 4

The guests arrived promptly at eight o'clock. She looked around at the Royal officers and their wives, all in finery, chatting pleasantly and thought she would have rather seen a tribe of Indians on the warpath. Abigail took her hand and led her to a group of officers who were laughing and sipping wine.

"Come, you must meet my husband," she said. Sarah followed obediently. "Edward, look who has finally arrived. Sarah, this is my husband, General Edward Mercer. Edward, this is my dear friend, Sarah Roe." The general bowed and kissed her hand. Sarah curtsied in return.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Roe. My wife has done nothing but sing your praises since she received your letter. It a pleasure to finally put a face to the name."  
"And you, sir." The general nodded then turned back to the men, signaling the conversation over.

The next two hours were a dizzying parade of names and faces. Sarah recognized a few, but most were new to her. Finally, Sarah could not stand to make one more painful conversation about the weather, or the latest fashions. She was about to excuse herself from the party, when a new guest arrived.

"Oh, Sarah, you simply must meet Mr. Rivington. Come." Sarah was dragged off again into the room across the hall, where he had gone to get a drink.

"Mr. Rivington!" The man turned at the sound of her voice and smiled, making his way through the crowd to meet them. They kissed each other's cheeks.

"Mrs. Mercer, you are a vision. Thank you for the invitation."

"You are always welcome in our home, Mr. Rivington." Then all eyes turned to Sarah.

"And who is this charming young lady?" Sarah held out her hand, which he kissed, and smiled.

"This is my dear friend, Sarah Roe. Sarah, this is Mr. James Rivington, the esteemed editor and publisher of the Royal Gazette. And proprietor of Rivington's Coffeehouse."

"An honor, sir."

"The honor is all mine, Ms. Roe. Tell me, do you plan on staying the city long?"

"I'm afraid it will be a short visit this time, but now that I am closer I hope to make my visits to the city longer, and more frequent."

"That is good news. And perhaps while you are here, you can find time to stop in a view our presses. They have been deemed the official press of his Majesty the King."

"I would like that very much, Mr. Rivington, thank you."

"Will Mr. Townsend be attending tonight?" Abigail asked. Sarah froze.

"Robert Townsend?" She blurted out. They both looked at her in surprise.

"Yes, do you know each other?"

"Once. A long time ago. I'm sure he doesn't remember me anymore."

"Oh, I wish I would have known, I would have mentioned you in my invitation."

"Yes, perhaps that would have been enough to convince him. I'm afraid he insisted on closing the shop tonight."

"What a pity."

"Perhaps, you could come for a tour of the presses tomorrow, Ms. Goodman, and see him then."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose."

"No imposition. It would be a delight to receive you."

"Very well, I would be happy to go."

"Excellent. Shall we expect you at say, eleven o'clock?"

"Eleven it is."

"Splendid! And Mrs. Mercer, I hope you will deem it fit to grace us with your presence as well."

"Of course, I will."

"How good of you, but now I must speak to your husband on a matter of the utmost importance."

"Of course, let me show you to him. Sarah, will you be alright here on your own?"

"Actually, I believe I will retire for the night."

"Oh, but the night is still so young," Abigail protested.

"Perhaps for you, but I have been travelling the last two days, and I confess all I want now is to go to bed."

"Well, I shan't stop you. Goodnight, Sarah, dear, and pleasant dreams." Sarah wrapped Abby in a brief hug.

"Goodnight, Abby. Mr. Rivington, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"And I you, Ms. Goodman." Sarah curtsied and went to retrieve her cloak.

She was met with a gust of cold air as she stepped outside. Pulling her cloak closer around herself, she hurried down the stairs and towards the waiting carriage. In her hurry, she ran into a figure going inside. They both stumbled, causing the hem of her dress to ride up and reveal a long, white scar. The man froze, and she quickly covered the scar.

"Excuse me," she mumbled, blushing in embarrassment.

"Sarah?" A familiar voice made her stop. She looked up in horror to see Robert staring at her.

"Excuse me, sir," she said again and hurried into the carriage. Robert went to stop her, but her was too late. He could only watch the carriage disappear into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Sarah did not breathe easy until she was back in her room and out of her dress. She stoked the dying fire and tried not to think about Robert. He knew who she was, there was no doubt. And is he had always been more conservative in his views. If he found out her true reasons for being there, he could report her. She barely slept that night, wondering if her mission had ended before it even began.

It was still early when Sarah went down for breakfast the next morning. She gratefully accepted the bowl of hot porridge and took a seat near the fire, listening to the quiet chatter of her fellow guests. They were men, mostly, travelling on business, or soldiers. Then she noticed a droughts board at the end of the table.

In a moment of nostalgia, Sarah set up the board. She began playing herself, using two different strategies. She imagined that she was a great strategist, playing against a seasoned general. Each had their preferred methods of victory, equally effective, but completely different.

"If you keep playing like that, you'll reach a stalemate in five moves." Sarah was jilted from her concentration by a familiar voice. She looked up to see Robert Townsend standing across from her. Her cheeks flushed against her will.

"May I help you, sir?" She said, trying to act more relaxed than she felt.

"I hope I didn't startle you, Ms. Goodman."

"Only a little," she admitted. "I'm afraid I couldn't find any willing opponents."

"May I?" Sarah nodded reluctantly.

Robert took the chair across from her and studied the board. He nodded to himself and moved a piece.

"You may not remember me, but we met briefly last night." Sarah blushed.

"Yes, I remember. I apologize for my abrupt exit, but I was eager to get home."

"Of course, I only hope you were not injured by my clumsiness."

"Only my pride, Mr.… I'm sorry, I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Robert Townsend, at your service." Sarah jumped two of her pieces, kinging her own piece. Robert raised his eyebrows in surprise. Sarah was silently pleased that she had managed to impress him.

"It's not often that I see a woman playing this game. Who taught you?" Sarah could hardly control her racing heart now, and when she spoke, her voice was a little higher than normal.

"I taught myself," she said. Robert let out a short laugh, which made her blush again, this time in indignation.

"Forgive me, but it would highly improbable that someone could simply teach themselves such advanced strategy. There must have been someone to teach you." Sarah jumped three of his pieces, backing him into a corner.

"There is an exception to every rule, Mr. Townsend." She watched him study the board with smug satisfaction.

"And yet, here we are," he said and pulled a surprise maneuver, of questionable legality, from behind. With dismay, Sarah realized that he had trapped her pieces and ended the game. Anger began to boil up inside her.

"That is an illegal move." The small, smug grin on Robert's face disappeared.

"Funny, that's not what you said last time."

"That was completely different…" Sarah stopped, realizing her slip. Robert realized it too.

"So, it is you."

"I…"

"Sarah Roe…"

"Goodman, actually, Mr. Townsend. Now, would you please state your business here?"

"My mistake, Ms. Goodman. Mr. Rivington sent me to tell you that he regrets he cannot show you the presses today but hopes you will have time on your next visit to tour the Royal Gazette."

"That is a pity, but I'm sure it cannot be avoided. Thank you, Mr. Townsend." Sarah stood, and Robert followed.

"There is one more thing," he said, pulling out a bundle of letters. "If you would be so kind as to pass these along to our mutual friends in Setauket, I would be most grateful." Sarah froze, suddenly realizing what was happening.

"You?" She could hardly believe that the conservative, mild-mannered boy from her childhood was now a spy for the rebels.

"You were supposed to be wearing a blue kerchief, so you'll forgive my hesitation, but Mr. Mulligan assures me that you are trustworthy."

"And do you always believe what others tell you?" Sarah asked, hardly able to resist the jab. Robert was properly irked, but there was now no doubt in his mind as to who she truly was.

"Not anymore. But I do believe that you can be trusted. So, I wish you safe travels, and Godspeed."

"Thank you, Mr. Townsend." Sarah said, suddenly sad to see Robert go. Now that the suspense was over, she quite enjoyed being in his company again, even if it was under the guise of Ms. Sarah Goodman. She watched the door close behind him and then went upstairs to pack.


	6. Chapter 6

A thick fog had settled over the land by the time Sarah reached the drop in Setauket. She slipped through the woods of the cove like a shadow. The fog made it difficult, but she eventually reached the old tree by the water, just as Caleb had described it. There was the hollow knot just where it should be, and she was just about to stash them when she heard oars on the water. She tucked herself in some nearby bushes and watched.

A small boat came into view, the lone rower still masked by fog. The hull scraped up against the dirt and the man got out and turned around.

"Caleb?" Sarah stood up, confused. Caleb spun around, axe ready. He relaxed when he saw her.

"Jesus, Sarah, you scared the shite out of me. What are you doin' here. You should be long gone by now."

"The fog made it difficult to travel. But what are you doing here? I thought we weren't supposed to ever meet in person."

"Aye, we weren't but I just got the signal to come here."

"That's impossible, I only just arrived."  
"Well, if Woody didn't send the signal, then who did?"

"I did," Sarah and Caleb turned to see a woman with a bag in hand. She looked near tears as she came forward.

"Anna? You're supposed to be halfway to England by now." This was all it took to cause Anna to break down in tears. She ran and embraced Caleb, who seemed surprised and concerned, but he held her as she cried. Sarah shifted awkwardly, unsure whether to stay or go.

She had just decided to leave, when Anna pulled away, wiping her eyes. She looked around, and spotted Sarah.

"Who is she?" She demanded, immediately on-guard.

"It's alright, she's with us. Now, would you mind telling me what you were thinking, coming out here in the middle of the night?"

"There's no time to explain."

"What? Is Hewlett after you?"

"No, Ed- Major Hewlett has been taken care of. But I must leave Setauket, tonight." Caleb thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright. Hop in." He helped her with her bag and then lifted her into the boat. Sarah suddenly remembered the letters.

"Wait! Take these. Courtesy of 723." Caleb took the letters and tucked them in his shirt.

"Much obliged. Take care of yourself, Sarah."

"And you, Caleb. Anna." Anna nodded silently, wiping away a stray tear.

Sarah watched the boat slowly disappear into the fog and listened to the splash of the oars until all that could be heard was the croaking of some nearby toads. Suddenly, she heard the rustling of footsteps. Before she could hide, a man came running down the slope and to the edge of the water. He clutched a letter, written in a woman's hand, and Sarah sighed.

"You're too late," she said. The man turned around, knife in hand.

"Who are you?"

"Sarah. Safer if you don't know my last name. Mr. Townsend sends his regards." The man immediately relaxed.

"You're the new 724." Sarah nodded.

"If you'll excuse me, I should be going."

"Wait. Did she, did she say anything before she left?" Sarah smiled sadly and shook her head.

"Only that Major Hewlett had been taken care of, and that she had to leave Setauket tonight." Woodhull nodded, looing away to hide his tears.

"I see," he said.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said. Suddenly, Abe turned around.

"Wait," he said again. Sarah paused.

"It really isn't safe for us to meet here."

"Well, where do you suggest?"

"I have a friend in Oyster Bay,"

"Samuel Townsend?"

"You know him?" Sarah nodded, unwilling to divulge further. "Good. Then you know where he lives. We'll meet there, by his barn."

"Alright," Sarah said. Abe looked out over the empty water one more time. Then he turned suddenly.

"One more thing…" he started to say, but Sarah was already gone.

It wasn't long before Sarah came upon the ruins of an old homestead. The floorboards were starting to rot from a hole in the roof, but it was a roof nonetheless and she was exhausted from her travels. Sarah led the horse to a lean-to off the back, and then went inside. She shook out the bed as best she could, and upon seeing the fleas that jumped out, opted for the floor. She looked around at the moss, and rat droppings and sighed.

"Home sweet home."

Just before dawn, Sarah woke to the sound of movement outside. She listened again, hearing the snorting of her horse, and the snapping of a twig. She rolled over, checking that her pistol was loaded, and crawled to the window. Two Regulars were poking around outside.

"Look, see, I told you I wasn't crazy."

"So there's a horse. Probably got loose and wandered off."

"I'm telling you, Rosholt, someone's here."

"Then it's a squatter. Come on, let's run him off and go. I'm starving." Sarah ducked as they turned back towards the house. Her heart raced as she heard the footsteps. Crouching beneath the counter, next to the door, she watched as they entered, leaving the door open behind them.

"What'd I tell you? No one's here." Sarah slipped out the door and ran to the shed, as the two soldiers argued. She mounted her mare and urged her on. Hearing the commotion, the two soldiers ran out, just in time to see her ride past.

"Halt, in the name of the King!" She heard one of them say.

Over her shoulder she yelled, "Damn the King; long live George Washington!" A shot whizzed by her head, and another embedded in a nearby tree, sending bark flying, but she kept going.

When Sarah was sure she had lost them, she slowed to a walk. Her cabin had been compromised, and she now had no place to stay while on Long Island. She kept going until she came to the edge of the woods. Below her was the town of Oyster Bay.

"God help me," she muttered, realizing what she had to do. She followed the tree line until she came to a road, which led her to the doorstep of the Townsend Homestead, just outside of town.

The old house was just as she remembered it, and she was sure that if she looked, she would see where she and Robert had carved their initials into the old elm out back. She climbed the well-worn steps to the front door and hesitated a moment before knocking. The sound of footsteps grew louder as the door opened to reveal Samuel Townsend.

"Can I help you?" He asked. Sarah suddenly remembered that she was still in her buckskin trousers and hat, which she quickly removed, allowing her long blond hair to fall out.

"I hope you can, sir." Realization dawned on him, and he ushered her inside.

"Sarah? Sarah Roe? Come in, please. Forgive me, I hardly recognized you under that hat."

"Quite alright, and please forgive me for dropping by unannounced, but I am in dire need of your assistance, Mr. Townsend." She gratefully accepted the cup of tea she was offered, realizing for the first time how hungry she was.

"Anything you need. Tell me, how can I be of service?"

"As you may, or may not know, I have taken over your duties as courier for Robert and Mr. Woodhull."

"You? But surely this task is far too dangerous for a young woman such as yourself."

"No more dangerous for me than it was for you, I assure you, Mr. Townsend. Unfortunately, I have, just this morning, found myself on the wrong side of the local militia and in need of lodgings while I await Robert's signal. I was hoping you might know of a discreet place for me to stay."

"You must stay here," Samuel said, almost immediately. Sarah was mortified.

"Oh no, I couldn't."

"You most certainly could, and you have little other choice. The British have increased their patrols, and I'm afraid any place that you might hide would quickly be discovered. This is the safest place for you." Sarah groaned inwardly, but knew he was right.

"Then it seems I must accept. That you, Mr. Townsend, I am truly grateful. But are you sure it won't be too dangerous for you?"

"Nonsense. If people ask, we will tell them you are taking refuge here while your father is away with the Royal Army." Sarah nodded.

"Yes, I think that will be sufficient."

"You look exhausted. Would you like to lie down for a while?" Samuel asked, noting Sarah's blank stare. She nodded gratefully and followed him up the stairs to an empty room. "This will be your room, and I'll tell the servants to leave you in peace."

"Thank you, Mr. Townsend; I am in your debt." Samuel smiled and patted her hand like he used to when she was a young girl.

"Sleep well, Sarah." And indeed, Sarah was asleep before her head touched the pillow.


	7. Chapter 7

Sarah woke the next morning to the smell of bacon frying. She rolled out of bed and found a dress laid out on the back of a chair. Putting it on and washing herself off as best she could, she went downstairs.

"Ah, good morning, Sarah."

"Good morning, Mr. Townsend. This breakfast smells delicious, can I help you at all?" Samuel came out with two plates of steaming food.

"As a matter of fact, I just finished. I'm glad to see the dress fits."  
"Yes, it's lovely. Where did you come by it?" Samuel suddenly grew a little sad.

"It was my wife's, I found it in one of her old trunks."

"I remember Mrs. Townsend, she was a kind woman." Samuel nodded, then shook away his solemnity.

"Yes, well, shall we?" Sarah took his hand as he said grace and then they began eating. Sarah had just finished her eggs when there was a knock on the door. She froze, heart racing as Samuel went to answer it. She strained to hear what was being said but could only hear muffled noise.

"Right this way, gentlemen." Samuel came into the dining room and Sarah nearly choked on her toast. Standing in front of her were the two militia men from the previous day. She told herself she had been well enough disguised they wouldn't recognize her. After all, Samuel hadn't recognized her when she was two feet in front of him.

"Sarah, this is Captain Rosholt and Lieutenant Anderson."

"Good morning, sirs," she said, standing out of respect. The men bowed and then the older man began looking around, while the younger stayed by Samuel.

"These men are looking for a rebel spy whom they believe is hiding somewhere in the area," Samuel explained.

"Rebel spy? Should we be concerned?"

"Not at all, ma'am. We'll find him soon enough. Unfamiliar faces stick out round these parts."

"Pardon me, miss, but I don't recall seeing you before. Speaking of unfamiliar faces, that is," the older soldier said, pausing from his search.

"No, you wouldn't have. I used to reside in Philadelphia, until the rebels drove us out. Mr. Townsend has graciously taken me in." Seeing the soldier was still suspicious, Samuel spoke up.

"Her father was a close friend of mine." Although not entirely convinced, this seemed to satisfy the soldier and he resumed his search. Seeming to find everything satisfactory, he returned to the group.

"Everything seems in order here, sir. Pardon the intrusion, but I'm sure you understand, it's for your own safety."

"Of course. Good luck to you on your search." The soldiers nodded and left. Sarah sighed in relief as the door latched behind them.

"That was too close."

"I think they believed you. Although that Captain Rosholt is a suspicious fellow. And cunning."

"I'll be sure to watch out for him." They returned to the table, but Sarah found that her appetite was ruined.

"I think I will go for a walk, and clear my head," she said, excusing herself from the table.

Sarah walked along all the old paths, through the forest and along the bay, remembering the times in her childhood when she was happy. She had been an only child, with a sickly mother, so much of her time was spent amusing herself. She would pretend to be an Indian princess, who lived off wild berries, until the day she accidentally ate some holly berries and threw up for two days. After that she was forced to play closer to home. As she walked by the old homestead, Sarah could still make out the stump of the old tree where she had first met Robert. She could almost see it play out in front of her.

"Why are you crying?" He had asked her as he was passing by.

"I'm not crying," she had insisted, although it was obvious she was. Her father had just cut down the old oak that had stood in their yard since she was born. She had taken the loss of her quiet friend very personally.

"Would you like to play a game?"

"What kind of game?"

"A game of strategy. My father just taught me, but I'll teach you, if you want." And so they had carved out a crude board on the old stump and played draughts until his brother came to fetch him home.

Sarah wiped away a stray tear, remembering the day ten years later, when Robert had come to tell her he was leaving. She had cried, and he had kissed her cheek, and promised to write her every day. She could still feel his lips, and how she longed for more. There was no use denying it. She was just as in love with Robert as the day he had left.

Sarah returned to the Townsend house in the late afternoon. Samuel was resting on the porch, and she took care not to disturb him as she went in.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Samuel asked, shifting slightly in his seat. Sarah paused, reflecting on his question, then nodded to herself.

"Yes, I believe I did." Samuel smiled as he heard the door close.


	8. Chapter 8

A week slipped past and the weather turned colder. Sarah woke each morning expecting to see snow on the ground, but it seemed to be holding out. Samuel spent his days in the fields, overseeing the farmhands as they worked to get the fields turned over. Sarah tried to convince him to rest, as his health was still fragile, but he would not be swayed. Although she knew it was unwise, Sarah began to slip into a comfortable routine on the Townsend farm.

One day, as she was coming home with the groceries, she was stopped by Samuel, who was in the back yard, tending the garden.

"You'll find a copy of the Royal Gazette on the table. You might want to look at the advertisements," he said, leaning on his rake. Sarah rushed in shoving aside the groceries in her haste. She quickly found an ad for French raspberry brandy; Robert's signal.

Sarah immediately ran to her room and packed a bag. She wanted to change into her old clothes, but thought better of it, as the soldiers were still on the lookout for them.

"I will try to be back by week's end," she told Samuel on her way out.

"Travel safe and tell Robert it would be nice to see him at Thanksgiving this year," he replied. Sarah paused.

"Why, Mr. Townsend, wouldn't that be considered a holiday?" She asked.

"So don't tell the other Quakers," he said. Sarah laughed and hurried to the stables to start the long journey back to York City.

Rivington's Corner was bustling with customers when Sarah arrived in the late afternoon of that next day. She was stopped at the door by a large man with a heavy cane which she suspected was not for walking.

"No women without sponsorship," he said gruffly. Sarah tried to look past him, but he blocked the door.

"My name is Sarah Goodman, I know the owner, Mr. Rivington, and his partner, Mr. Townsend. I'm sure that either of them could vouch for me." The man didn't seem convinced and started ushering her away, when Robert appeared behind him.

"It's alright, Tommy." Tommy grumbled but let Sarah through.

"How good to see you again, Ms. Goodman."

"I got your message and came as fast as I could." Robert led her to a counter in the back and pulled out a Geneva Bible.

"Give my regards to Mr. Culper."

"I shall indeed. And tell me…" Sarah was cut short by Rivington's loud exclamation.

"Ah, Ms. Goodman, what an unexpected delight. I did not dare to hope you would be back so soon after your last visit."

"Mr. Rivington, how lovely to see you again. Yes, I received a letter from Mr. Townsend just yesterday, saying that he had acquired this Bible for his father, and as he is unwell, I came in his place." Rivington reach for the Bible.

"May I?" Sarah handed it over and he rifled through the pages.

"Are you a religious man, Mr. Rivington?" Sarah asked.

"I am a newsman, which is a religion all its own. Where others worship mysteries, I seek to dispel them." He shut the book and handed it back to Sarah. "And you, Ms. Goodman, seem to be the greatest mystery here."

"Whatever do you mean, sir?" Sarah shifted, casting a nervous glance towards Robert, who seemed equally concerned.

"Well, you did not tell me you and Robbie were such close, childhood friends, and now I find you have been exchanging letters? What other secrets are you hiding behind that pretty smile?"

"Well, sir, it is true that Robert and I grew up together, indeed, our fathers were close friends. But I hardly tried to disguise this fact. And as for our exchanging letters, I'm afraid it was just the one." Rivington gave a secret smile.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he said, winking at Robert, who replied with an unamused stare. "No need to defend yourself, Ms. Goodman. Every lady must have her secrets. But I pray thee, since you know him better than I, lift the veil on the mystery of our young, Quaker friend. He says so little."

"Robert may ration his words, but I have found that what you see is what you get."

"Really, now? It's always the quiet ones who hold the darkest secrets. Don't they?" Robert looked at Rivington.

"Or perhaps their darkest, most shameful secret, is that they have none," he said, adding a smile for punctuation. They studied each other for a moment, before Rivington turned back to Sarah.

"And what's this I hear, that you have taken up lodging at the Rose and Thorn?" Sarah laughed nervously.

"My goodness, Mr. Rivington, is there anything you don't know?"

"I am a journalist at heart. But I insist you move out of that retched place at once and rent with us."

"I'm afraid we don't have any vacancies at the moment," Robert interjected.

"Don't be ridiculous Townsend. There's that room across from yours, or have you completely consumed it with your books?"

"I suppose I could find room for them elsewhere."

"Excellent! Then it's settled. I'll have Tommy bring over your bags."

"I'm afraid I couldn't afford your room, Mr. Rivington," Sarah said quietly.

"Oh, we'll settle all that later. In the meantime, have some Madeira, on the house."

"You're too kind."

Suddenly the door opened, revealing a handsome officer, who strode in with purpose. Rivington quickly excused himself and rushed to greet him. Sarah noted that Robert's face had gone pale.

"Who is that?" She whispered.

"Major John Andre, the British head of intelligence." Behind Andre trailed a burly, mean-looking man in a long overcoat.

"And that?" Robert simply shook his head. Major Andre motioned for the man to come through. He was followed by several more men, carrying large sacks of paper. Sarah was beginning to get nervous.

"Robert, what is going on here?" Sarah asked.

"Mr. Rivington is in the fashion of reporting the news before it happens. Perhaps some great victory is expected soon."

"They'd be fools to try anything now. It's nearly winter, for goodness sake."

Rivington came out a few moments later, looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. He came back and grabbed Robert.

"Excuse us, Ms. Goodman," he said, pulling Robert away.

Sarah tried not to seem too interested in their conversation, but when she noticed Rivington sliding a large stack of Continentals towards Robert. Robert slid them back, and Rivington tucked them away. The men came back over, and Sarah pretended to study their wine selection. She looked up as they approached.

"I was wondering, Mr. Rivington, if I might have the tour of your presses I was promised at my last visit. I am very eager to see one in in action."

"And that you shall, Ms. Goodman, but I'm afraid the tour will have to wait a little longer."

"Oh," she said, disappointed she would not get to spy out what the British were planning.

"You see, two of our printers have been drafter into service for a top-secret mission. It's all very hush, hush. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to stand in the way of such an important mission."

"Very kind of you. Robbie boy, round up some drinks and I'll take them down to our friends. Nothing too strong, eh?"

"Of course… James." Sarah smiled a little at Robert's obvious irritation, which Rivington was oblivious to. He took the platter of drinks and disappeared down the stairs once again. As soon as Rivington was gone, Sarah turned to Robert.

"We have to find out what they're up to."

"And we will, but not right now."

"So you have a plan?"

"You could say that."

"Good, how can I help?"

"No, it's too dangerous." Sarah stood back, offended.

"I am not a child in need of protecting. I want to help you, now tell me how I can help."

"You can help by staying out of the way, and that is final," Robert said in his infuriatingly calm manner. Before she could argue further, he poured a pitcher of ale. "Your room is the last door on the right. I trust you can find your own way," he said, and then left.


	9. Chapter 9

Sarah stormed up the stairs and into a cozy, well-lit room at the end of the long hall. The desk and chairs were piled high with books, which she stacked against the far wall. She started a fire to ward off the chill in the air and tucked the encoded Bible in one of the desk drawers for safe keeping.

A little while later, there was a knock on the door. Sarah answered it and found Robert, holding her bag. She stepped aside and motioned him inside. He set the bag on the bed and then turned to her.

"I believe this is everything."

"Thank you. How much do I owe you for the bill?"

"You don't, it's already been paid for."

"I really must talk to Mr. Rivington about this…"

"He didn't settle the account. I did." Sarah was taken aback, and suspicious.

"You didn't have to…

"I wanted to," Robert insisted. "I also wanted to apologize for earlier. I treated you like a child, and that was wrong of me." Sarah didn't know what to say.

"Did I just hear an apology? From Robert Townsend? You really have changed," she teased. Robert smiled.

"As have you. It's been a long time, Sarah."

"Fourteen years, to be exact," she said quietly.

"I believe congratulations are in order." Sarah frowned.

"Why is that?"

"Well, I don't see a ring, but you have changed your name. I assumed…" Sarah shook her head.

"When my father joined the Continental army in and sent me to live here, we thought it best to take my uncle's name, in case someone should discover who my father was."

"So, you…" Robert was interrupted by a rapid knocking on the door.

"Come in," Sarah said. Rivington popped his head in the door, a delighted smile on his face when he saw the two of them.

"There you are, Townsend. I was wondering if you might close up tonight. Mrs. Rivington has just arrived, and you know how she gets."

"Of course."

"Good man. Now, don't let me interrupt, carry on." Rivington dashed out before they could say anything.

"Your Mr. Rivington is very…"

"Meddlesome?" Robert offered.

"I was going to say persistent, but yes, he is that too," Sarah laughed, Robert joined her, shaking his head.

"Oh, sometimes I wonder what I've gotten myself into. But I suppose he's mostly harmless."

"Don't let Rivington fool you with that act of his. He's watching you, closer than you may realize."

"And I'm watching him. If I'm to be caught, it won't be by him." Sarah nodded, more to herself than him. They fell into silence, until Sarah remembered Samuel.

"Your father sends his greetings. He also wanted you to know that he will be hosting Thanksgiving dinner and is looking forward to seeing you there." Robert shook his head.

"With each year that goes by my father becomes more and more radical. It's a wonder they still let him into services on Sunday."

"It's no wonder he and my father got along so well."

"How is your father, by the way?" Sarah flinched a little.

"He died, fighting General Greene's army in the Carolina's."

"My deepest condolences. So, does this mean you have been running the tavern on your own?" Robert asked, appalled by the idea. Sarah shook her head.

"We lost the tavern almost five years ago. When father enlisted and sent me to live with my Aunt Constance and Uncle John in Manhattan. Events transpired that forced me to cut my stay short. I've been living among the French in a place called Prairie du Chien for the past three years."

"But then, why did you come back?"

"The British have taken everything from me, my home, my family, my freedom… I vowed that if I was ever given the chance, I would take it all back. And then Caleb Brewster tracked me down and told me about this ring of yours. I wanted to help."

"So, you're staying with friends on Long Island then?" Sarah shifted nervously. She had hoped she wouldn't have to bring it up, but she could see no way out of it now.

"You could say that, yes."

"Do I know them?"

"Quite well, actually. I'm staying with your father."

"What?" Robert was not amused.

"It wasn't my idea, but I had no choice. The British are patrolling the area too closely to hide. Your father offered me a room, and I couldn't refuse."

"I see," Robert said weakly.

"Please, don't be angry." Robert frowned and went for the door.

"I should leave you to unpack." Without another word, he left. Sarah collapsed on the bed. She wanted to march downstairs and beat some sense into Robert's thick skull, but instead she settled for an early bedtime. She hoped sleep would clear her head.


	10. Chapter 10

After several hours of tossing and turning, Sarah decided some food would help settle her mind. Straightening up as best she could, she went downstairs, relieved to find the place empty.

"Still awake?" The sound of Robert's voice made her jump. She turned to see him behind the counter, cleaning some glasses.

"I was just going to fix myself some food." As if on cue, her stomach growled loudly, making her blush.

"When was the last time you ate?" Robert asked, seeing for the first time how thin she was. Sarah thought back.

"Monday?" She guessed.

"That was nearly two days ago, no wonder you can't sleep. Sit here while I fix you a proper meal." Sarah allowed herself to be seated at a nearby table as Robert disappeared into the kitchen.

After several minutes of sitting, Sarah could help herself no longer. She was itching to know what was happening in the basement. Checking to make sure no one was around, she crept up and put her ear to the door. The sound of chatter was overthrown by heavy footsteps on the stairs. No sooner had she backed away, then the burly man from earlier came bursting out.

Their eyes met, and he seemed surprised, then intrigued. Sarah backed away, entering the light of the nearby fireplace. In the better lighting, the man smiled, tracing her figure with his eyes.

"Who are you?" He asked. Sarah remained silent, hoping he would be discouraged. This was not the case. He came closer, backing her into a corner. "Don't be shy now. I just want to know your name. My name's Henry Dawkins."

"Pleas allow me to pass, sir," Sarah said, panic beginning to swell. He didn't move, but instead reached out and felt her hair, pulling a little towards him to smell.

"Mm, I wonder if you taste as nice as you smell." He hands began to wander down, but Sarah shoved him away, managing to escape from the corner. Now Dawkins was angry, he started towards her, just as Robert came out with her food. Dawkins froze, and Sarah rushed to Robert's side.

"Can I help you, sir," Robert asked, barely containing his anger. Dawkins straightened, giving Sarah a long, cold glare.

"I'm here for a grog. Quickly now."

"It'll be a shilling," Robert replied coldly.

"Ain't been paid yet. But I could get you some Continentals." Robert sighed and nodded, setting the plate on the table.

"You gentlemen have been working away all night. Allow me to bring you some Madeira, on the house." Dawkins smiled and started back towards the door. Suddenly, Robert reached out and stopped him. "I don't want to see you near Ms. Goodman again. Do you understand?"

Dawkins growled and shrugged Robert away. He disappeared down the stairs without a sound. Sarah collapsed into the seat with relief and Robert hurried back to her.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Sarah shook her head, shaking slightly.

"No, I'm fine, but you shouldn't have done that, Robert. He could kill you."

"He could try," Robert muttered, still fearless from his anger. He knew she was right, but the thought of that man, or any man, assaulting Sarah was enough to make his blood boil.

Sarah began to eat her meal in tired silence as Robert prepared the drinks. She watched him from the table, realizing what was happening.

"So this is your plan?" She asked, a little underwhelmed.

"Do you have a better one?" He challenged, taking up the tray. Sarah thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Then yes, this is my plan."

Sarah watched Robert descend the stairs. She found her blood racing a little as she thought of all the ways this could go wrong. The minutes seemed to stretch on until Sarah had finally decided that she would go down and see what was keeping him. She started to stand as the door opened and Robert came out, unscathed.

"Well?" She asked as he drew near.

"I'm going to need that Bible back," he said.

Sarah led Robert to her room and dug pulled the Bible from her drawer, then she followed him across the hall to his room, where he set to work inscribing the information.

"What's happening? What did you learn?"

"They mean to flood the market with counterfeit Continentals and bankrupt Congress." Sat collapsed on the bed.

"That will ruin them," she whispered.

"Not if we get the information to Washington first. There's still a chance we can stop them." Sarah nodded, and stood.

"Where are you going?"

"To change. It's going to be a long ride and I'll never make it in this dress."

"No, it's too dangerous. You should wait until morning."

"How many times must I tell you that I can take care of myself?"

"It's not that I just…"

"What? What is it? Because right now, it just feels like you don't trust me." Robert stood suddenly and went to lean over the fire. He studied the flames intently.

"Do you remember when we were about twelve years old, and you tried to teach me how to swim?" Sarah rubbed her leg subconsciously.

"How could I forget? You insisted on going out alone and nearly drowned."

"Until you jumped in, shoes and all, and dragged me back to shore. You saved my life." Sarah's leg pulsed, remembering the jagged rock she had cut it on.

"But you were the one who bandaged my leg carried me all the way home."

"We've always looked out for each other, Sarah, let's not stop now. Wait until morning, please." Robert walked over and took her hand in his, making her heart speed up a little. "For me."

"Alright, for you." Robert sighed in relief and went back to his desk. Sarah watched him as he wrote out the information on the thin pages. She thought back to when they would pass notes to each other during school.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking about the time Reverend Morris caught us passing notes in school, and he made you read it in front of the entire class."

"Ah yes, how did that go? Roses are red, violets are blue, fish mongers smell bad, and Morris does too." Sarah laughed out loud, recalling how red Rev. Morris' face had gotten.

"How do you remember that?"

"I thought it was quite ingenious for a seven-year-old," Robert said, chuckling as well. Sarah shook her head.

"It was cruel, is what it was. Truthful, but cruel."

"You always did have a way with words."

"A lot of good that did me. At the end of the day, I'm still alone." Seeing her distress, Robert came to sit next to her on the bed. "You know, I never wanted any of this," she confessed. "I never had any grand ambitions. All I wanted was someone to love, and support and live out my life with. But now…"

"We must remember what God has said. A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps."

"Do you really believe that?" Sarah asked. Robert thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes, I really do. After all, He brought you here, didn't He?" Sarah nodded. "Then that is enough for me."

"I wish I had your faith," Sarah said, finding it harder to keep her distance, both emotionally and physically. The warmth of his body drew her closer.

"And I wish I had your bravery." Sarah shook her head.

"No, bravery makes you do reckless, foolish things," she murmured, staring up at him. He looked down at her, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Such as?" Robert whispered.

"Such as this," Sarah said as she reached up and kissed him.

Sarah's mind buzzed with adrenaline. She had finally done it. Come what may, she had kissed Robert, and after a moment of shock, he had kissed her back. Her heart was giddy with relief and excitement. The look on Robert's face was difficult to discern and she feared that her advances were unwelcome. Perhaps she had misread the entire situation.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" She started but she was cut off by another, longer kiss. Robert's hand roamed up and entwined itself in her hair as she deepened the kiss. Fourteen years of unspoken feelings were poured into those few seconds. And when they finally broke away, Sarah was breathless.

"I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you," Robert murmured, smoothing down her mussed-up hair. In the distance, Sarah heard the church bells chime two. She forced herself to stand, and he followed close behind.

"I'll leave you to your work then," Sarah said. She stopped at the door and stole another kiss. "Goodnight, Robert."


	11. Chapter 11

Sarah woke the next morning with a giddy feeling that was hard to place. Then she remembered the events of the night before. She touched her lips, hardly believing they had kissed Robert's. With a lightness in her step, she packed her bag and went downstairs. She was met by Rivington, who was carrying a large carafe of coffee.

"Good morning, Ms. Goodman. Sleep well?"

"Extremely well, thank you, Mr. Rivington. Have you seen Mr. Townsend at all this morning?"

"You know, I haven't. He stayed late last night; I imagine he's having a bit of a lie in up in his room."

"I see, well I believe I will go wake him. I'm afraid I must return earlier than I expected, and I wished to say good bye to him before I left."

"Yes, I'm sure you did," Rivington said in a suggestive tone. Sarah ignored him and went back upstairs. She knocked on the door and waited. A few moments later, it opened to reveal a very awake Robert, he ushered her in and closed the door.

Sarah was surprised at the awkward silence that permeated the air between them. She shifted, searching desperately for something to say. To her relief, Robert broke the silence for her.

"About last night…" he began, but Sarah jumped in.

"I understand if you…"

"I meant every word of what I said," he finished. Sarah looked up, saw the sincerity in is eyes, and smiled in relief.

"So did I," she said. He smiled back and walked towards her, his eyes darting between her own and her lips. She allowed him to come near and place a tender kiss on her lips. The feeling lingered even after he pulled away. She sighed and rested her head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating. "I wish I didn't have to go. I wish I could stay here, with you, forever."

"Then stay. Forget Washington, forget all of it. Stay here, with me." Sarah breathed deeply, taking in the scent of his clothing, then shook her head.

"You know I can't do that," she said. "The ring needs me. My country needs me."

" _I_ need you. Don't I matter in any of this?" Sarah smiled sadly and kissed him.

"Of course you do, more than anything. And we will be together someday, when all of this is over, and America is free."

"What if it's never free? What if this struggle never ends?"

"I have to believe it will." Robert smiled.

"I wish I had your faith."

"You do," Sarah said. "You just don't see it yet. But you will."

"When will I see you again?" He asked.

"Thanksgiving is next Thursday, a little more than a week away."

"It is still too long to be apart from you," he said, handing her the Bible. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless before I see you again."

"Define reckless." Robert replied without missing a beat.

"Jumping into the ocean, fully clothed, to save a drowning man." Sarah smiled.

"We both lived to tell about it, didn't we?" Robert chuckled and shook his head.

"You should go before Rivington barges in here hoping to catch us in some godless act." They kissed one last time, then Sarah tucked the bible into her pocket and left.

Sarah arrived late the next day to find Samuel out in the fields, turning over the fields. He straightened as she approached.

"Back so soon?" He asked as she dismounted.

"My timing was very fortunate. We discovered a plot to devalue the Continental currency that had to be relayed right away. By the way, Robert is planning on coming home for Thanksgiving." Samuel smiled with delight.

"Wonderful. It will be so good to see him again. And it will be good for us to talk outside of all this spy business."

"Speaking of spy business," Sarah said, seeing a rider approach. Abe climbed down and tied his horse to the wagon. Sarah watched him closely, noting his nervous fidgeting.

"Your signal said it was urgent?" He asked.

"Ah, Abe, it's good to see you again!" Samuel said. Abe managed a smile and a nod.

"I'm afraid I can't stay long. You understand."  
"Of course. Well, your timing is impeccable. Sarah just returned from York City not five minutes ago." Sarah pulled out the bible and handed it to Abe.

"Time is of the essence on this one," Sarah said. Abe nodded and tucked it safely in his coat pocket. He mounted and began to leave.

"Abe," Samuel stopped him. "Robert will be coming home for Thanksgiving, and I thought it would be good for you two to talk again, and not through code. Why don't you and your family join us for dinner?"

"Well, I'll see what the wife says."

"Do that," Samuel said, a little disappointed. Sarah hated to see him sad. With his wife gone, and Robert in the city, Samuel had little that made him truly happy anymore. She was glad Robert would be coming at least.

"Good day," Abe said, turning his horse.

"Good day," Samuel and Sarah replied. They watched him disappear over the hill.

"We should go back. It's getting late, and you should not be out in the cold for too long." Samuel guffawed, but did not resist.

Sarah cooked dinner that night, and after a simple reading of the scriptures, they both went to bed. And so the days passed. Sarah took care of Samuel, when he let her, and kept busy around the house. Her thoughts were on Robert most of the time, and she was counting the days until she would see him again.


	12. Chapter 12

At last that day came. Sarah Samuel spent most of the day cooking and cleaning. But as the hours went on, no knock came at the door. The sun had long since set when Sarah finally saw a rider approaching. She waited in the parlor as Samuel answered the door.

"Abraham, how wonderful!" Sarah fought off her disappointment and stood as Abe entered, looking agitated and restless. "But, where's the rest of your family."

"Just me, I'm afraid," he said, barging in. He looked around, as if searching for someone. Samuel followed.

"You remember Sarah," he said. Abe regarded Sarah with a nod, but nothing more. Finally he sighed.

"You're gonna have to leave." Sarah heart jumped, and she ran to the window to make sure Abe wasn't followed.

"Leave?"

"Yeah, the Queen's Rangers are moving down Long Island again, raiding homes along the way. We're going to have to go, right now."

"Are we not being a little too hasty?" Samuel asked, following Abe up the stairs. Sarah did not bother to follow, but instead kept her eyes fixed on the road. What if they had come across Robert? She prayed God would watch over him and bring him safely home.

Abe and Samuel came back downstairs, still arguing. Sarah peeled herself away to go and talk some sense into Samuel.

"Why don't we wait until Robert gets here, and then we can all go together? Hmm?" Samuel said, taking back his bag.

"Mr. Townsend, we can't know when Robert is going to arrive, and you know firsthand how dangerous the Rangers can be. Perhaps Abe is right. Perhaps we should leave now."

"What has gotten into you two?"

"Look we don't have time for this, the Rangers _are_ coming."  
"Ah!" Samuel suddenly exclaimed. Sarah spun around, knife drawn, to see a man holding a gun to Samuel's head.

"Up against the wall," he said in a thick Scottish accent. Abe and Samuel quickly obeyed, but Sarah made no move to do so. She had known many men like him in the Northwoods, and was perhaps not as afraid as she should have been. He trained his pistol on her. "Up, _all of you_. That mean you, missy."

Sarah glared at him and started to back up, just as the front door burst open. She lunged at the man, but he caught her, disarming the knife, and pinning her against him. He smelled of urine and blood. He put the pistol to her head, using her as a shield against Caleb.

"Let her go," Caleb said, aiming his pistol.

"Do it, Caleb," Sarah said. "Shoot him."

"Drop your iron," the man said.

"You drop yours."  
"Just do it Caleb. It's alright, I know him." Abe stepped forward, desperately trying to diffuse the situation.

"What in God's name is going on?" Samuel demanded. "Of course he knows him. That's Austin Roe."

"No, it's Robert Rogers," Abe said, then turned to Rogers. "Look, no one's aiming to hurt anyone here, but if you kill her, you die."  
"You're in no position to threaten me, boy. I warned you not to follow me."  
"What's he talking about, Abe?" Caleb asked, shifting nervously.

"And who are you?" Samuel asked. Caleb suddenly refused to make eye contact, and a sinking feeling started in Sarah's gut. This night was not going to end without some bloodshed, she knew.

Abe tried desperately to get everyone out, claiming that the Rangers would be there any minute, but Rogers wouldn't listen.

"I came here to see Robert Townsend, and I'm not leaving until I see Robert Townsend." Sarah panicked a little.

"What do you want with Robert?" She demanded.

"Ah, don't worry, missy. I won't hurt him. All I want is information, same as all these children. Now, Long Island's a very big place, and we've got plenty of time. So I suggest we all sit down and get comfortable."

Time dragged on as Sarah was forced to sit in Rogers lap. His breath reeked of stale whiskey, and he would occasionally take a bit of turkey which only made the smell worse. At last, Sarah heard a horse on the road. She heard the door creak open, and footsteps in the hall.

"Father? Sarah?" Robert came around the corner and froze. It must have been quite the sight, with Caleb's gun trained on Rogers, who in turn had a gun pointed at Sarah. Abe and Samuel sat in quiet anger. Robert's eyes fell on Sarah and his look turned from one of confusion, to anger.

"Mr. Townsend, welcome," Rogers said.

"Let her go," Robert said, moving forward.

"Robert, don't," Sarah started, but Rogers covered her mouth.

"A feisty gal you've got here, Robbie. It would be a shame to ruin such a fine woman. Sit down; arms on the table." Robert obeyed, silently seething. "Now then, you penned a letter, mentioning a certain John Andre and the young woman who recently turned his head. What's her name?"

"Let Sarah go, and I'll tell you what you want to know." Rogers cocked his gun.

"I don't aim to be here all night. Now, what is her name?"

"What will you do with the information?"

"I'm gonna use it to get close to Andre."

"You won't get close enough," Abe interrupted. They began to argue, but Sarah's attention was turned towards Samuel, who had suddenly gone pale.

"It's you," he whispered, looking at Caleb. Caleb shifted nervously but said nothing. "You're the Queen's Ranger." Sarah's heart dropped.

"Shite," Caleb whispered. "No. No I'm not."

"Yes you are. You attacked me, and you burned down my farm."

"What?" Robert asked in a low voice. "What is this? Woodhull is this true." Abe looked Robert in the eye and nodded.

"Yes, it's true. You couldn't choose a side, so we chose for you." A change passed over Robert, and he became dangerously calm. Then, he looked at Rogers.

"Mr. Rogers, the woman's name is Philomena Cheer. She is an actress. You will often find her at Rivington's on Wall St."

"Ah yes, the actress. I remember her. I can use her. Well, it has been a pleasure watching the amateur dramatics this evening, but I really must be going. Now, blow the powder out your pan." Caleb growled, but blew out the powder. Roger stood, keeping his gun on Sarah. She was beginning to realize that this would not end well for her. Rogers turned to Abe. "I used to like you, boy, but I warned you not to cross me. And now this pretty lady is going to pay the price."

"No," Abe said, but before Rogers could pull the trigger, Robert put a gun to his head.

"Let her go, now." Roger lowered his gun.

"An armed Quaker," he mused. "Who'd have guessed it." He laughed and dumped out his powder and released Sarah, who immediately grabbed a knife. Robert kept his gun trained on Rogers. "You going to kill me?"

"Robert, please," Sarah whispered. She wanted Rogers dead as much as the rest of them, but she knew that if Robert killed that man, his soul would be torn beyond repair, and would never know himself again. Slowly, Robert lowered the gun.

"The spirit of Christ will never move us to violence against our brothers with outward weapons. You will leave this house, Mr. Rogers." Rogers laughed again and slipped away.

No sooner had he left, then Caleb grabbed the gun and ran after him. Sarah waited to the gunshot, but it never came.

"Bollocks!" he shouted. Sarah ran out to see what the commotion was about. "Damn Quaker shite," Caleb was muttering. Sarah smiled a little when she realized the gun had never been loaded. Abe pulled Sarah aside.

"Listen, I know this looks bad, but we did what we had to, to recruit Robert. We still need him, and he knows it."  
"Robert does not forgive easily. What you did… I don't know if he'll ever move on from it. Besides, how do you expect him to trust any of you, when you can't even trust each other?" Seeing the anguish on Abe's face, Sarah sighed. "But I will try. Maybe I can show him that the cause is still worth fighting for."

"Thank you," Abe whispered. Sarah nodded, but heard horses coming. They looked up to see Rangers coming down the road.

"Hide. Quickly," she said.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Now go, hurry!" They ran for the cover of nearby bushes as the Queen's Rangers approached. Sarah hurried back into the house, where Robert was cleaning up the mess left by their unexpected guests. Her immediately came to her side.

"Have they gone?"

"Yes, but there are Rangers…" Sarah was cut off by several men entering.

"You can relax men, they're Quakers," one of them said. He seemed to be their leader, by the insignia on his uniform, but something about him made Sarah uneasy. "We're looking for a man who goes by the name of Culper."

Sarah's heart leapt into her throat, but she forced herself to stay calm as she watched him pick up the pistol Abe had left.

"There was a man. He broke in, demanded supplies," Robert said.

"And left his weapon?"

"He called it a gift, to defend ourselves against any unfriendly elements." Robert explained. Sarah was silently impressed by the ease with which he fabricated such a plausible explanation.

"Yes, he seems to think himself quite the jokester," Samuel added.

"He had another weapon which he took with him, along with a bite of our turkey. His name wasn't Culper though." The captain turned from the plate he was inspecting. "It was Rogers."

A change came over the captain, and he took the pistol and left without a word. They waited until the Rangers rode out of sight before finally relaxing. Sarah collapsed in the nearest chair in exhaustion. The fact that she had almost died was beginning to sink in. Robert began to pace, an old habit he had formed when he was angry.

"How dare he toy with the lives of others, as if we were his playthings? We could have all been killed tonight," he ranted.

"But thank God we were not. And now, I think we should all go to bed and talk about this in the morning," Samuel said calmly. He went over and patted Robert's cheek. "Get some rest, son."

"Goodnight, father," Robert said, but made no move to follow Samuel.

"I believe I will retire as well," Sarah said, standing up. Robert caught her by the hand as she walked past him.

"Wait, please." His voice was so small and tired, it broke her heart. She turned back towards him and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"It's alright. It's over now."

"But is it? While we stay so near the fighting, is it ever really over?"

"What are you saying, Robert?" Robert took her hands in his earnestly.

"Come away with me, Sarah. My brother runs an inn in Maine. It's as if the war never happened there."  
"You can't ignore this war forever. No matter where we run, it will find us; surely you realize that. And how could I rest, knowing that my countrymen are sacrificing their lives for the cause, while I turn away and pretend everything is right?"

"And what about _our_ sacrifices? You almost died tonight, because of the reckless acts of your fellow countryman. When does it end? Must I watch everything I love be taken away for the sake of this cause, which has brought me nothing but pain and suffering?"

"But I didn't. The Lord spared my life to fight another day. He knows that I am needed here, and you are too, Robert, even if you're too angry to see it right now; you know it's true." Robert scoffed and backed away.

"Abraham Woodhull sent men to attack my father and burn down our barn. Do you really expect me to trust a man like that with my life?"

"He didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Well then you made him feel as if he didn't have one. I know you Robert, you get an idea in your head and there's no way to get it out. Sometimes you get so lost in your own ideals, you can't see the bigger picture."

"So, you're suggesting I just forget all of this?"

"No, I'm suggesting that there are bigger things here than you or me, or Abraham Woodhull. We must not forget what we are fighting for here. Freedom, and a better future for our descendants. I believe these things are worth our sacrifice." Robert fell silent, his face impossible to decipher.

"You may be willing to risk the lives of others for this crusade of yours, but I am not. Now, I know there is no use in me ordering you out of my house, as my father will likely insist that you stay, but I urge you, for his sake, to leave this place."

"Robert…" Sarah fought back tears as she realized that any hope of them being together was slowly crumbling.

"Goodnight, Ms. Goodman." Without so much as a glance in her direction, Robert disappeared up the stairs.


	13. Chapter 13

Sarah was up before the sun the next morning. She packed her bags, leaving the dresses Samuel had given her, and opting instead for her old hunting clothes. She wrote out a note to Robert, explaining herself, and apologizing for any unnecessary danger she had place them in. Then she slipped out of her room and down the stairs.

The house was still, and quiet as she placed the note on the kitchen table and headed for the door.

"You know, I didn't think you'd actually do it," Samuel's voice made her jump as she passed the parlor. She looked over to see him sitting in the armchair by the fire.

"How much did you hear?" She asked.

"Enough. He loves you, you know. He's just scared."

"I know, but he's also right. I have no right to put you in danger. It would be safer for everyone if I leave."

"And where will you go?" Sarah shrugged.

"Washington's camp, then west. They say there's free land for any brave enough to take it. The ring is broken, there's nothing to keep me here anymore." Sarah choked up when she saw the tears brimming in Samuel's eyes.

"Then I pray that God will watch over thee in your travels. Safe journey, Sarah. And know that you will always have a home here." Sarah dropped her bag and flung her arms around Samuel, hugging him tightly. She forced herself to let go and step back, wiping a tear from her cheek and sniffling.

"Thank you, Mr. Townsend. For everything. And tell Robert…" Sarah searched for the proper sentiment, but found the words escaping her. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but he wouldn't want to hear any of it.

"I'll make sure he knows," Samuel assured her. Sarah smiled and nodded, then disappeared with the first rays of morning sunlight.

Sarah travelled all day, and through the night. Travel was slowed by checkpoints, we she had to go miles out of her way to get around. She trekked through mud and crossed rivers until at last she reached Rebel lines on the evening of the second day. She followed the tree line, until rows of white tents came into view. Washington's camp in Middlebrook.

"Halt and dismount!" The sounds of guns cocking made Sarah stop short. The horse skittered as three men came out. Sarah jumped down and removed her hat. The leader took one look at her and shook his head. "Followers' camp is back behind the ridge. Keep moving."

"I've come to see Major Tallmadge," Sarah said making no move to leave. The men snickered, and their leader stepped forward.

"Did you hear that, lads? The missy knows Major Tallmadge." Sarah sighed.

"Will you take me to him, or shall I go myself."  
"Oh, don't you worry, missy. We'll escort you to camp. Men!" Two men came forward and grabbed Sarah on either side. Realizing what was happening, she pulled her knife. The other men aimed their rifles.

"I don't want any trouble," Sarah warned. "But I'll be seeing Major Tallmadge, the easy way, or the hard way."

The first man lunged forward to grab her knife, and she easily side stepped him. He stumbled off a ways as a second one grabbed her from behind. Sarah kicked out at the one in front of her, hitting him square on the nose. Then she jabbed her captor in the side, forcing him to release her.

"Whoa, Sally, whoa. Stop, stop, stop!" Sarah turned, ready with her knife, to see Caleb. She slowly lowered the knife, and looked around, daring the guards to try anything.

"I gave them a fair warning, Caleb. They chose to ignore it."  
"I'm sure you did, but you can't just go around attacking Continental soldiers. There's precious few as it is. Now, what're you doing here?"

"I've come to see Major Tallmadge."  
"Ben? Why, is there trouble?"

"No trouble, as long as I get the money I'm owed." Caleb sighed and pulled her aside.

"About that, Sally."

"Caleb…" Sarah warned. She hadn't spent the week trudging through mud, just to be denied what she was owed.

"There's barely enough to keep food in the bellies of our regulars. I'm sorry." Sarah jerked away.

"Where is he?" She saw Caleb glance towards a tent a few yards away.

"You can't see him, Sally. It's too dangerous." Suddenly, a young man in a dragoon's uniform stepped out of the tent. He bore the insignia of a major. Sarah pushed past Ben and marched up to the young major.

"Major Tallmadge!" She called. He turned around, confused. Caleb came running up behind her.

"Who are you? And how did you get into camp? Caleb?"  
"It's alright Ben, she was just leaving." Sarah jerked away with a glare.

"Actually, I was here to collect the payment I was promised for services rendered in York City." Realization dawned on Bens face and he pulled both of them into his tent.

"What is she doing here, Caleb? How does she even know where camp is?"

"I'm a woman, not an idiot."

"Not now, Sally, please," Caleb pleaded, then turned to Ben. "Ben, it's alright. We can trust her. Sarah and I go way back." Suddenly, Ben realized.

" _This_ is _the_ Sarah. The one who…"

"Yeah, well, no need to go into that now." Caleb cut him off. Sarah sniggered, remembering when they had first met. He had made a comment about her breasts, and she had knocked him unconscious.

"Either way, you shouldn't be here, Ms. Roe. It's far too dangerous."

"That's what I tried telling her," Caleb muttered.

"Forgive me, Major, but I won't be staying long. I've just come to collect what I'm owed and be on my way. I can assure you, you will never hear from me again."

"Look, even if I wanted to, I can't pay you. There's barely enough to go around as it is."

"Tried telling her that, too," Caleb said, earning a sharp look from Sarah. She huffed and looked up to the roof of the tent.

"Now what am I supposed to do?" She asked no one in particular.

"You could stay here," Caleb suggested. Sarah scoffed.

"What, and mend stockings all day? I don't think so, Caleb."

"It's not a bad idea, Ms. Roe. We don't know for sure that the ring had dissolved. Townsend could still come around, and if he does, we would still need you to run his messages. Just, think about it." Sarah sighed and nodded.

"Alright. I'll consider it. But I will not be staying in the followers' camp."

"There's a barn, about a mile outside of camp. We use it to store hay, but it's warm and dry. You're welcome to stay there for the time being," Ben offered. Sarah nodded. "Very well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the General, and you should be halfway to Setauket by now."

"Shite, you're right. Come on, Sally, I'll show you the barn. It's on my way."

Sarah followed Caleb out of the tent and through camp. She waited until they were away from prying eyes and ears to speak.

"And where are you off to in such a hurry?" She asked.

"I really can't say, Sally."

"What, you don't trust me?"

"It's not that."

"Then what?" Sarah demanded.

"Alright. If you must know, I'm going to Setauket to fetch Abe and his family. It's not safe for them there anymore, what with Simcoe on the loose and looking for blood. This is you." Caleb motioned to the large barn, sitting in a patch of open land. Sarah shook her head and turned around. "Hey, where are you going?"

"Barn's too big, and there's not enough cover. I'm a sitting duck out here. I'll make camp elsewhere, thank you." Caleb growled and tossed his hands.

"Do as you please, I know you will anyway. Just, try not to get yourself shot by a patrol. Now, be good, and stay out of trouble. I'll be back in a day or two and we can talk things over then." Caleb and Sarah parted ways, with Caleb headed west, and Sarah back south.


	14. Chapter 14

Sarah acquired some canvas from Anna's cart and rigged up a shelter on the ridge between the two camps. The spot afforded her a strategic view of the camp's comings and goings, without being too conspicuous to either side.

It didn't take long for Sarah to grow restless. She waited three days for Caleb to return, or a message to be sent, but all she got was silence. It left her far too much time to think, about Robert and her life. Maybe Robert had been right. She was tired of waking up each day, wondering if it would be her last. And she wanted a family, someone to love. That was all she ever wanted.

But what kind of life could her family have under the British? They would live their lives at the mercy of a king who was thousands of miles away and going madder by the day. Meanwhile, his soldiers would do as they pleased, with little regard for those they saw as beneath them. No, there would be no peace for her until she was free.

And then one day, the first snowflake fell. It was followed by another, and another, until the snow climbed up to her shins. Sarah kept to her tent, watching and waiting for word from Ben, or Caleb, who had not yet returned.

It was coming on a week since Caleb had left, and Sarah had just decided to ride out and find him herself, when she saw a rider coming fast into camp. The lumpy figure looked oddly familiar, and her suspicions were confirmed when he rode straight into Ben's tent. Without wasting a minute, Sarah rushed down to see what Caleb had discovered.

By the time she had infiltrated the camp, a group of soldiers was gathered around Ben, being debriefed on an upcoming attack. Sarah kept to the edges until Caleb finished handing out his slips of paper. She picked up a nearby pebble and hit him square in the back of the head. He winced and turned around. Seeing her, he hurried over.

"Sally, what're you still doing here?"

"Waiting for you. So, what did you find out. Must be important if Major Tallmadge is going out."

"You can thank the Quaker for that."  
"Robert?" Sarah's mind buzzed.

"Aye. Rode all the way out to Setauket to warn us that the Tories know about the camp. Most of the camp's being moved further north, and I suggest you go with them."

"What about you?"

"I'll be going with Ben. We're gonna hit the garrison at Stony Point while they're all away attacking us."

"I'm coming with you." Caleb laughed, then, seeing she was serious, shook his head.

"No. No way. You've pulled a lot of shite in the time I've known you Sarah Roe, but you won't be doing this."

"I can fire a musket just as well as the next man. And I wasn't asking your permission. I'm going."

"Never gonna happen. Ben's a stickler for the rules and I have to agree with him on this one. It's just too dangerous." Seeing she would get nowhere trying to reason with him, Sarah nodded.

"Alright, fine. I'll go pack up my things." Caleb sighed in relief.

"Thank you."  
"And Caleb," Sarah said. He turned around. "Good luck." He smiled and nodded, then went to rejoin the men.

Sarah did indeed return to her tent and pack her bags, but she had no intention of sitting out the raid. She left her horse and her belongings with Anna, who was all too happy to help. Then, making sure her blade was sharp and her boots were laced tight, she fell in the back of the line of soldiers marching on Stony Point.

They marched well into the night, until the lights of the fort came into view. Sarah spotted Caleb a few paces ahead and snuck up to join him.

"Got any more of those paper slips?" She whispered. Caleb nearly took her head off, but she ducked at the last moment. A string of profanities came out when he realized who it was.

"I thought you said you were going to stay with the camp."

"I lied."  
"You're gonna get yourself killed."

"Well, it's too late to turn back now. So, do you have an extra paper or not?" Caleb growled in frustration and pulled out a spare piece.

"Here. If you're gonna get killed it won't be because of me." Sarah smiled and pinned the paper to her hat.

"How do I look?" She asked. Caleb shook his head, but she caught the smile he tried to hide.

"Like a regular army bloke. Now shut up and stay close. We're here."

Sarah followed Caleb as they crept up the steep embankment to the edge of the fort. They slipped past their spikes and just as Sarah caught sight of the first patrolman, Caleb charged forward and killed him. Ben was next, leading the charge into camp.

Sarah's mind went blank. Men poured from their tents and around her she heard the sounds of flesh being slashed and stabbed. For a moment, she didn't know what to do. And then from her left, she saw a soldier charge towards her, bayonet fixed. She stumbled back, narrowly missing the spear. As he stumbled off-balance, she plunged her knife into his neck. Blood spewed from the wound, which he clutched as he fell. Sarah took his rifle and turned to face the next two. Pulling her gun, she shot one of them, then stabbed the other.

She had just pulled out the bayonet when she heard the order to hold. Panting, she looked over to see Ben accept the officer's sword.

"The fort is ours!" Ben cried. A cheer went up from the men, and Sarah eagerly joined them. Pride and relief pulsed through her equally as she joined Caleb.

"We did it, Sally!" He yelled. She smiled and joined the cheers once more. And an hour later, when the prisoners had been secured, and the men were assembled, Sarah watched Betsy Ross's flag, tattered and blood stained, fly above them, a symbol of freedom and peace, hard won.


	15. Chapter 15

"I'm going to Georgia," Sarah said Caleb as they sat around the fire one cold, January night.

After the successful capture of Stoney Point, the troops had been ordered north to the new camp in Highlands. Caleb, and a few others, were reassigned to the Flying Camp, stationed between Baltimore and Philadelphia. Sarah went with him, claiming he needed someone watching out for him, although in reality, she feared the loneliness. Caleb was the only friend she had in camp, and she feared what would happen to her without his support.

"That's a good idea," he replied. Sarah was surprised. Most of her schemes of late had been met with arguments.

"Aren't you going to ask me why? I had a whole speech prepared." Caleb shrugged, taking a bite of meat from his dinner.

"By all means, don't let me stop you." Sarah was just about to start in on her argument, when a hooded rider came into camp.

"Caleb!" They both stood at Anna's voice. Caleb went to meet her.

"Annie, how was New York?"

"Where's Ben?" She demanded. Sarah joined them, hearing the urgency in Anna's voice.

"He's at West Point with Washington, on their way to Hartford. Why?"

"I need you to get a message to him. Both of them."  
"Anna, what's wrong?" Sarah asked.

"Benedict Arnold is a traitor," Anna whispered. Sarah's blood ran cold. She and Caleb shared a look as Anna continued. "I wrote down all I learned in New York. He's behind the counterfeiting, the attack on Middlebrook, everything."

"Shit," Caleb muttered.

"Go," Sarah said and he wasted no time in running for his horse.

"Wait, where is he going?" Anna demanded. Sarah sent up a silent prayer.

"Arnold's at West Point." They watched on in silent horror as Caleb rode out.

Sarah led Anna to the campfire and got her some food. While they ate, Anna recounted her trip. She told Sarah that Abigail was expecting her first child and hoped to see Sarah some time before the birth.

"She also said that you should pay a visit to the Royal Gazette when you go. Apparently, there is a young man there who has missed you greatly since your last visit."

"I very much doubt that, and I'm afraid I can't go. I'm leaving for the south in the morning. The British still occupy Savannah and with the war in the south going the way it is, it won't be long before Washington will want eyes there more than in New York."

"Perhaps, but surely your cover is better in York City."

"I can't go back there, Anna. I won't"

"Ignoring your problems will not make them any less real, Sarah."

"It's late," Sarah said abruptly. "And you have had a long journey. Please, take my tent tonight."

"But where will you sleep?" Sarah looked up at the starry sky and sighed.

"It's a clear night; I shall sleep here by the fire." Anna was too tired to argue and fell asleep within moments of lying down.

Sarah lay awake for several more hours, staring at the stars, and listening to the men snore around her. She studied the stars, recalling the night she and Robert had snuck out and gazed at the stars on the hill behind his house. She had received a sound thrashing the next morning when she came back, soaking wet and muddy, but she would have done it again in a heartbeat.

She missed Robert, as much as she hated to admit it. And there were too many things that had been left unsaid between them. She felt them like a stone, weighing down her neck and she knew she would never be free of it until she saw him. So, before morning reveille had been called, Sarah left camp for York City.


	16. Chapter 16

Sarah went straight to the Mercer's house upon entering the city. She was greeted at the door by an overjoyed Abigail, who was already beginning to show. Sarah was ushered into the house and placed by the fire with a cup of tea in her hand before she could say a word of greeting. Abigail sat across from her, glowing in the firelight.

"Oh, Sarah, it was so good of you to come so quickly."

"Of course, Abigail. I came as soon as I heard the news." Abigail set a hand on her stomach.

"Isn't it wonderful? A child to carry on the Mercer legacy." Sarah's smile grew wider, if only to mask the sudden pang in her chest.

"Your husband must be very proud."  
"Indeed, it is all he talks about these days. I only pray that you might be so blessed one day. Perhaps with a certain Mr. Townsend?" Sarah blushed fiercely.

"I'm afraid that ship has sailed. In fact, that is part of the reason why I am here. I am going to speak with him tomorrow, before I leave for the south."

"I am sorry things did not end well between you."

"As am I," Sarah said with a sigh. Then she eagerly changed the subject. "The city has much changed since I was here last."

"Yes, it's been quite the upset since General Arnold arrived."

"Arnold is here, in the city?" Sarah swallowed hard. Abigail nodded.

"He will be at a party, hosted by General Clinton, this very evening. I cannot attend because of my condition, but I want you to go in my place."

"Do you think that is the best idea?"

"I don't see the harm in it. You must live a little before you die, Sarah. I shall even loan you one of my dresses. We seem about the same size."

"Well, in that case, it seems I must accept your offer."

"That you must. Now come, we have a party to prepare you for."

It was nothing short of an act of God that got Sarah into a bathtub. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so clean. Her hair, which now reached the small of her back, was brushed and twisted up into a simple curled bun, with ringlets down the side. A dusting of rouge was applied to her cheeks and her eyebrows plucked. When she was allowed to look in the mirror, Sarah barely recognized herself. Her skin was soft, and her eyes were round. Her nose was still too long, but there was no amount of makeup that could fix that. She touched her hair, which felt incredibly soft, and held a reddish tinge in the candle light. Abigail smiled proudly behind her, admiring her creation.

"I defy any man to resist you now, Ms. Goodman," she said.

Sarah blushed and smiled, her mind instantly jumping to Robert. What would he think if he saw her in all this finery? He would surely disapprove of it, but Sarah didn't care. Tonight, she was going to enjoy herself and, in the morning, she would be gone.

"I think I'm ready," Sarah said, standing. Her shoes pinched horribly, but she determined to ignore them. "Shall we?"

Kennedy House was brimming with activity. General Mercer led Sarah inside and helped her with her cloak, then immediately left her for the company of his fellow officers. Reminding herself to smile and be charming, Sarah spotted a group of women nearby and went to introduce herself. She was interrupted halfway there by the passing of Mr. Rivington. Delighted and relieved to see a familiar face, she stopped him.

"Mr. Rivington," she smiled. Rivington looked at her a moment, then smiled broadly.

"Why, Ms. Goodman I hardly recognized you. You are resplendent in that dress."

"Thank you, sir. Mrs. Mercer helped me greatly. She sends her regrets that she could not attend."

"And Mr. Townsend sends his." Sarah groaned a little inwardly. Rivington was nothing if not tenacious.

"I didn't think Robert was much for parties."

"No, he keeps his bridle on, but I nearly had him convinced when I mentioned the possibility of your presence here tonight."

"I'm afraid he and I had a bit of a disagreement after our last meeting at Thanksgiving."

"What a shame. But, give him time, Ms. Goodman, he'll come back around." Sarah almost countered him but thought it best to let go.

"Alas, time is one thing I am lacking."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I set out for Savannah in the morning. My cousin lives there and she has opened her home to me, and I have accepted."

"You will be sorely missed, Ms. Goodman."

"Though not by General Mercer it seems. He abandoned me the moment we entered for the company of his peers. Though I can hardly blame him."  
"Then must stay by my side, Ms. Goodman, and I shall introduce you to only the best of New York society. Beginning with the delightful Mrs. Pierce."

Sarah was led around the house in a dizzying parade of faces and names. By the time she was allowed to rest her aching feet, she was flushed, and finding it difficult to breath. Rivington led her to a seat near the window and went to fetch her some brandy.

The breeze was delightful, and she had just begun to breath normally, when she caught sight of a late arrival. He dropped his coat and took off his hat, and Sarah froze. It was Robert. He looked around and their eyes met. She stood as he approached.

"I thought you weren't coming tonight," Sarah blurted out. Robert smiled and looked down.

"I wasn't."

"Then why are you here?" Robert pulled out a creased and wrinkled note. Sarah recognized it as the one she had written over a month ago, when she had left.

"I wanted to write back to you, but no one knew where you were. You disappeared."

"I didn't think you would care to know." Robert suddenly took her hands.

"But I do care. Sarah, I…" Robert was interrupted by General Mercer's arrival.

"Pardon the intrusion, Ms. Goodman, Mr. Townsend, but I'm afraid we must cut our visit short. Abigail is feeling unwell."

"Of course, General. I'll gather my coat."  
"No need, I will do it. You finish your conversation with Mr. Townsend." Sarah nodded and watched him leave. Then she turned back to Robert.

"What was it you were going to say, Robert?" Robert sighed.

"There is too much to say in such a short time. Will you come to the coffeehouse tomorrow? It will keep until then."

"I suppose I could delay my departure a few hours. You may expect me at midday. Please excuse me." Robert watched Sarah leave, silently rubbing the gold band in his pocket.


	17. Chapter 17

The house was empty the next morning when Sarah awoke. The maid explained that the Mercer's had gone to breakfast with another couple and would be back some time before lunch. Sarah found a certain amount of pleasure in having such a large home to herself. She insisted on cooking her own breakfast, although the cook did not protest too greatly.

Sarah hummed an old lullaby her mother had taught her as she mixed the batter for pancakes. Soon the sweet aroma filled the kitchen. Sarah carefully plated her meal, consisting of pancakes, a bowl of porridge and sliced apple, along with a glass of milk, and sat at the table to eat it. She was halfway through her meal when the maid came in.

"A Mr. Townsend to see you, miss," she said with a curtsy. Sarah stood as Robert came in, fiddling with the brim of his hat.

"Robert, I thought we were supposed to meet this afternoon. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait until this afternoon." Sarah came around the table and led him into the parlor.

"Please, have a seat." Robert followed her but did not sit.

"Why did you come back to New York?" He asked. Sarah slowly sank onto the settee.

"I came here to say good bye,"

"And then where will you go?" She almost lied, knowing that the truth would only anger him. But the truth was all she had.

"To Savannah, to spy on the British for Washington." Robert sighed and nodded.

"I suspected as much." Suddenly, Sarah realized what was happening.

"Is that what this is about? Have you really come all this way to try and discourage me from my work?" She demanded, indignant. Robert was genuinely taken aback by the accusation.

"What? No… is that why you think I'm here?" Robert's voice was tinged with hurt.

"Isn't it?" Robert sighed and sat next to her.

"No, I realized long ago that you will do what you please, with or without my approval."

"The _why_? _Why_ are you here?"

"I am here because I cannot bear to be apart from you a moment longer. I thought after our last meeting that I could finally move on. I tried to convince myself that we were just too different. But the more I tried to put you out of my mind, the more you were there, and I realized that I have been missing something this past month, and, if I am being honest, these past fourteen years. I have been missing you."

"Robert, I won't abandon my mission."

"I'm not asking you to. If you wish to keep spying and fighting, then I will not stop you. All I am asking is that you stay. Stay here, with me."

"And where am I supposed to live? I cannot prevail upon the Mercer's hospitality forever. I have no inheritance, and no husband. I have no way to support myself here." Robert swallowed hard and shook his head.

"You're not listening to me, Sarah. I want you to stay, as my wife." Sarah's entire body went numb.

After a long silence, all she could manage to say was, "Are you sure you want me?"

Robert smiled and shook his head. Then he pulled out a simple golden band and held it out to her.

"This ring was on my mother's finger for over thirty-three years. And I cannot imagine anyone I would rather see wearing it for the next thirty years than you. Now, I shall ask you properly: Sarah Roe, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"I have been waiting fourteen years to marry you. Yes, I will be your wife, Robert Townsend."

Robert smiled and Sarah beamed as he slid the ring onto her finger. It almost glowed as it caught the morning sun.

"Perfect fit," Robert said. Sarah flung her arms around him and kissed him. His hands came up to cradle her head as he savored the taste of her lips and the smell of her skin. Sarah pulled back with a breathless, giddy smile.

"Would you like some breakfast?"


	18. Chapter 18

The couple discussed their wedding plans over breakfast. They decided to get married as quickly as possible, in Oyster Bay so that Samuel could be present. Robert would return to the coffeehouse and pack, and Sarah would meet him there that afternoon. Then they would travel together to Oyster Bay.

Once Robert had left, Sarah could barely contain her excitement. Abigail had scarcely taken off her coat when Sarah shared the news. Abigail was so excited she insisted on buying Sarah a new dress for the occasion.

"Consider it a wedding gift," she said. Sarah had thanked them both and promised to visit as soon as they were settled. Then, she set off for the coffeehouse.

As she got closer, Sarah grew uneasy. Something was wrong, though she couldn't put her finger on what it was. A carriage stood opposite the coffeehouse, surrounded by soldiers. Sarah slowed down and watched as Hercules Mulligan entered the coffeehouse. A few moments later the carriage door opened to reveal Benedict Arnold. Heart racing, Sarah followed him at a distance, slipping in behind him as he entered.

"Hercules Mulligan!" Arnold boomed. The chatter stopped and all eyes turned towards the door. Robert made eye contact with Sarah and ever so slightly shook his head. Slowly, Sarah inched her way back outside.

She hid herself around the corner and strained to hear what was being said, but it was no use. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and Mulligan stumbled out a few seconds later, followed by Arnold. Mulligan looked around and their eyes met for a brief second. She started towards him, but he shook his head. Sarah watched, helpless, as they carted him away. Slowly, Sarah began to put together the pieces. She rushed back to the Mercer house as fast as she could.

"Sarah? What's wrong?" Sarah collapsed as soon as she entered the Mercer's parlor. "Constance, fetch me a brandy." The maid hurried off as Sarah caught her breath.

"Where is your husband?"

"He was called away. Why?"

"Hercules Mulligan has been arrested." Abby went pale, and Sarah offered her the brandy she had been given. Abby downed the whole glass.

"Are you sure?"

"I watched it happen, Abby."

"But, surely this is a mistake. I will write to the arresting officer at once and demand his release."

"It was Benedict Arnold. He's hunting down suspected spies and traitors in the city. You need to cease your reports immediately."

"Of course, but what about you?"

"I have to make sure that Robert is safe, and then we must both flee the city. It's the only way."

"When will I see you again?" Abby asked, realizing the implications of Sarah's plan. Sarah fought back tears and hugged her friend tightly.

"Perhaps never," she whispered. A sob wracked Abby's body, followed by another and another. Sarah held her close as she wept, allowing tears of her own to fall. Finally, they composed themselves.

"You will always be my dearest friend, Sarah."

"And you will always be mine, my dear Abigail. I pray that God will bless you, and your family, for all your days. Goodbye, love." Taking one last look at Abigail, Sarah turned and left the Mercer House.

It was almost nightfall when Sarah reached the coffeehouse again. Things had settled down and Tommy let her pass without any trouble. She looked around but didn't see Robert anywhere.

"Mr. Rivington, have you seen Robert anywhere?"

"I believe he's up in his room. I can show you there, if you like."  
"It's alright, I'll find my own way. Thank you." Sarah hurried up the stairs and entered Robert's room. She found him sitting in a chair, staring at some burning remains in the fireplace. His desk looked to be ransacked.

"What happened in here? Was it Arnold?" She asked, looking around. Robert barely looked up.

"No, it was me. I've burned it. The invisible ink, the codebook, all of it."

"Why would you do that?" Robert stood suddenly.

"Because Simcoe knows. I don't know how, but he knows. Or at least, he suspects."

"Simcoe? The Queen's Ranger?"

"Yes, he just showed up this afternoon, after Mulligan's arrest. Arnold questioned me, and Simcoe just stared at me. But that look in his eye…"

"We need to leave, tonight. It's not safe for us here. I've already warned Abigail, but we can't waste time." Sarah started towards the door, but Robert made no move to follow.

"I can't go," he said. Sarah shook her head and took his arm.

"You have to." Robert gently pulled away.

"Simcoe may suspect me, but Arnold does not. If I flee, then they will hunt me down, along with anyone close to me. This war has already cost me too much, I won't let it cost me you."

"I don't want to leave you."

"Neither do I, but it's the only way." Sarah knew he was right, but it didn't make the truth any easier to hear. She hated watching him slip away from her once again.

"Alright, I'll go. But not tonight. Tonight, I just want to be with you." Sarah looked into his eyes, hoping her meaning was clear.

"But we haven't been married yet."

"And there is a chance we never will be. Please, Robert." She reached up to kiss him, but he turned away.

"I'm sorry, but we can't."

"What about a common law marriage?"

"What?"

"My mother and father were married for years under common-law. All they did was declare that they were married and it was so. Does not the Lord see into the hearts and minds of men? He knows our intentions are pure."

"So, we simply say that we are married?" Sarah nodded.

"I will go first. Robert Townsend, you are my husband," she said, her body flush against him, lips barely brushing his. Sarah could feel the heat rising between them.

"Sarah Roe…" Robert hesitated.

"Say it," Sarah whispered, her breath short and shallow.

"You are my wife." The words barely escaped Robert's mouth before Sarah kissed him.

His fingers tangled in her hair as she shoved away his jacket. Her fingers flew to the buttons of his vest and she worked to undo them. His kisses trailed down her jaw and neck, until they reached the neckline of her dress. With a growl of frustration, Robert spun her around and began unlacing her corset, all the while peppering her neck and shoulder with lingering kisses.

Sarah closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his hand on her body, and his lips on her skin. As soon as the dress was loosened Sarah pulled it off, allowing the chemise underneath to flow freely. She turned back around to see Robert undoing the last buttons of his vest. It fell to the floor next to her dress. They paused a moment, taking in the sight of each other half-dressed. But the separation was too much for them and their lips quickly found each other once more as they finished undressing.

Robert guided Sarah into the bed and lingered above her, careful not to put down his full weight. He stared at her, studying every line and curve. Her hair was splayed out around her head like a halo, and her skin was flushed and smooth. She suddenly became shy, shrinking away from his gaze.

"What?" She asked. Robert shook his head a smiled.

"I just want to remember you like this."

"And how is that?" Sarah whispered, her hand reaching up to brush back his hair.

"Perfect," he whispered.


	19. Chapter 19

Sarah woke first, in a nest of blankets and a tangle of limbs. Robert's arms wrapped around her body, holding her close to his chest, while his head tucked into her shoulder. She felt him shift behind her and slowly she rolled over to face him. Still half-asleep, he looked up at her and smiled, gently kissing her.

"Good morning, wife," he mumbled, his voice still deep and gravelly from sleep. Sarah kissed him again, longer and deeper.

"Good morning," she whispered back. Their bodies began to wake up as the kisses became more heated. Her hands wandered further down his body and he moaned a little.

"Are you sure you have to leave so soon?" He whispered. Sarah gasped as his mouth found her sweet spot.

"If you keep kissing me like that, I don't think I'll be able to." Sarah could feel her self-control slipping away with every moment. Suddenly, there was a loud crash outside their window. The couple froze, hearts pounding. Robert crept to the window, then relaxed.

"Just some drunkard," he muttered, then crawled back into bed. She sighed and buried her head in his chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heart.

"I've decided to keep fighting," Robert said suddenly. Sarah looked up, surprised.

"I'm glad. But what made you change your mind?"

"You did. I've been thinking about our future, the life I want to give you. I don't want our children living under a king. I want them to have the freedoms we may never have." Sarah kissed his, long and slow, taking in every breath, every touch.

"I wish we could stay like this forever."

"We will, some day. But if you don't leave soon, Rivington will discover us, and then you will never be able to escape." Sarah laughed a little, then groaned; her body ached from the night's activities, but it was a good pain.

"I know," she muttered and rolled out of bed. Robert leaned back, smiling as he watched her get dressed. She caught him looking and blushed but smiled back. Once she was dressed she crawled back to him, still in bed, and kissed him long and passionately.

"Mrs. Townsend, you are going to be the death of me," Robert murmured. Sarah smiled and stood.

"That is the plan. Goodbye, Robert, and stay safe." Sarah crept to the door, and after a final look back, slipped out.


	20. Chapter 20

It seemed as though nothing was going according to plan. Sarah had been unable to find a good place to cross the Hudson undetected, forcing her to travel up the east bank, through dangerous neutral territory. She was even slower without a horse, but at least the weather seemed to be holding out in her favor. She had changed back into her old clothes, which allowed her to walk comfortably, and blend in with her surroundings. Two days passed, relatively uneventful, but on the third day, her trouble started.

The sun was beginning to set, but Sarah didn't want to risk stopping for the night. She had been fortunate to avoid the cowboys and skinners who roamed the territory, but she knew her luck couldn't hold out forever.

Suddenly, a twig snapped nearby. Sarah spun around, knife drawn, to meet the business end of a pistol. A dirty man in civilian clothing smiled back at her. Four more men materialized from the woods, effectively surrounding and trapping her.

"I don't want any trouble," Sarah warned, but before she could attack one of the men grabbed her from behind. She kicked and struggled, but it was no use. One of them wrenched the knife from her hand and tucked it in his belt, while another one ripped the hat off of her head. Her hair tumbled out and the leader chuckled.

"Well, well, well, what have here?" He leaned in close and wiped some of the dirt off her face. "Are you lost, missy? Because I would surely love to show you the way to my bed." Sarah spit in his face, which only served to anger him. He grabbed her arm and jerked her away. "Or maybe I'll just take you right here."

He began to tug at her clothes as his men watched, grinning like idiots. Sarah panicked and tried to push him away, but it was no use.

"No, no!" She screamed. "Help, somebody help!" The man just laughed and forced her to the ground.

"No one to here you scream, slag." Sarah closed her eyes and waited.

"Desist, in the name of the king!" Never had Sarah been gladder to hear those words spoken. She felt the weight lifted off of her and opened her eyes to see three soldiers approaching on horseback. One of them broke away to chase down the bandits, and the other two came to her aide.

Sarah stood and tried to cover herself as best she could, but she was still shaken and it was difficult to think straight. One of the soldiers dismounted and went to help her.

"Are you alright, miss?" Sarah froze. There was something familiar about the soldier's voice.

"I will be, thank you."

"May I ask what you are doing out here, all alone, and dressed like that?" One of the mounted soldiers asked her. Sarah looked up and instantly recognized him as Captain Rosholt, the men she had narrowly escaped two months prior. The young man standing beside her was Lieutenant Anderson, and the other soldier on horseback she did not recognize. She quickly put her hat back on, hoping to hide her face.

"My husband, whose clothes these are, was killed by raiders. I'm travelling to York City to seek refuge there," she lied, praying they would believe her and leave.

"Then you must allow us to escort you," Rosholt said. Anderson started to guide her to his horse, but she walked as slowly as possible.

"You may ride with me."

"Oh really, I couldn't impose. I…" Lieutenant Anderson frowned, peering at her face.

"Have we met before?" He asked. Captain Rosholt jumped down from his horse and caught Sarah as she tried to back away.

"You're the spy."

"You are mistaken, sir." Sarah tried to pull away, but he held her in an iron grip.

"Don't deny it. You may have escaped us in Long Island, but you won't slip away so easily now."

"Is there a problem, men? The third soldier, an officer, asked as he returned to the group.

"No problem at all, sir. Anderson and I have just captured a traitor to the crown."

"Are you certain?"

"I assure you, sir, this woman is dangerous. I suggest we take her back to camp for questioning." The officer sighed and nodded.

"Very well. Anderson, secure the prisoner. We'll ride out at first light."

Sarah was bound and tied to a nearby tree. The sky was clear, which meant no rain, but without shelter, it also meant that she was in for a cold night. She watched the men set up blankets and build a fire, silently planning how she could possibly escape. Her hands and feet were numb before they ate dinner, although they were kind enough to feed her.

As the fire began to die, and the men finished their meal, they started talking. Their voices were low, but the still, clear night air carried them farther than they thought. Sarah could just barely make out what they were saying.

"What did Rusker and his men have to say?" Rosholt asked.

"Said they were on their way to meet us when they found her. She wasn't carrying anything on her."

"I don't care about the girl, what about the plan?"  
"Oh yeah, the boats are ready and waiting. Now we just have to figure out what to do with _her_. I say we take her back for the reward."  
"Are you mad, Turner? If we take her back now, we'll be hanged right alongside her. No, better to kill her now and keep on as planned." At this, Sarah's blood ran cold, but she noticed that Anderson was staying quiet.

"If we take it to the man himself, we'll get our reward and be gone before anyone discovers us." Rosholt hook his head, casting a glance at Sarah, who quickly pretended to be sleeping.

"To risky. Now, as the leader…"

"Leader? I believe I'm the one who outranks you, _captain_."

"Who was the one who put this plan together? Without me, you'd still be on latrine duty." Turner drew his pistol and cocked.

"How dare you…"

"Alright, stow it, both of you." Both men froze and looked at Anderson. "I have a plan."

Sarah woke with a start, unable to move. She screamed, but it was muffled by the hand over her mouth.

"Be still. I'm not going to hurt you," a voice whispered in her ear. She ceased her screaming and struggling, recognizing the voice as Lieutenant Anderson's. Slowly, he removed his hand and began untying her.

"What are you doing?" She whispered as he freed her hands. She rubbed them, trying to restore feeling to her tingling appendages.

"Helping you escape."

"How do I know I this isn't a trap?"

"You don't. You just have to trust me." He untied her feet and helped her stand.

"Who sent you?" She demanded. Anderson shook his head, casting a pointed look at his fellow officers.

"There's no time for that. There's a rebel outpost just north of here. You need to run." Sarah followed him to the edge of the camp.

"I'll be faster on horseback," she stalled. He shook his head.

"Too easy to track. You'll have to go on foot." In the moonlight, Sarah finally caught the flash of his bayonet on his left side. Summoning her courage, Sarah leaned forward, and kissed Anderson. While he was distracted, she pulled the bayonet from its sheath, and stabbed him.

Anderson's body stiffened as she pulled away. His face was contorted in pain, anger and confusion, but when tried to speak, all that came out was a trickle of crimson blood. Sarah guided him to the ground, so as not to alert the others. When Anderson finally relaxed, dead, she pulled out the bayonet and ran for the horses.

The men were on her the instant she rode through camp. She heard their angry shouts, and glanced back only once, to see them trailing behind her. Sarah rode hard, following the road as best she could, and trying to figure out how she was going to lose them. They were beginning to fall behind, but she knew she wouldn't be able to outlast them, and she certainly couldn't lead them to the army camp. As she came around a sharp bend, which temporarily made them lose sight of her, Sarah swung her leg over the front of the horse and jumped.

She hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her, then rolled down the steep embankment, stopping only when she hit a large tree. She could feel the sting of several cuts, and there was a sharp pain in her left side when she breathed, but she was alive. Sarah listen as she heard the two riders thunder past, then fade into the distance. Dragging herself to a nearby copse of bushes, Sarah hid herself as best she could, and passed out.


	21. Chapter 21

A wagon woke Sarah the next day. It was difficult to tell the time of day, which could have been either early morning, or late evening. Either way, she had wasted too much time. Every muscle in her body protested as she dragged herself from her cover and stumbled towards the road. She didn't have a planned, she just prayed that whoever was driving the wagon would not kill her. Although the way she was feeling, she wouldn't have minded a quick death either.

The wagon came into view as she staggered up to the side of the road. She blinked a few times, try to clear her blurry vision. When she tried to raise her arm to flag him down, pain shot through her left side. She cursed silently, realizing that something was definitely broken.

"Whoa," she heard the driver say. She almost cried in relief that he had even stopped at all. "Sarah Roe? Is that you?" The young man with the familiar voice hopped down and drew closer. "Sarah, it's me, Ben. You look half-dead, what happened to you."

"I… I…" She fell into a coughing fit, which engulfed her in blinding pain. When the coughing finally died down, Ben helped her onto the seat.

"You'll have to sit on the bench with me. Do you think you can manage that?" Sarah nodded, ignoring her aching body. Rubbing the last of the sleep from her eyes, she looked back and nearly fell off.

"What happened?" She rasped. The back of Ben's wagon was filled with people. Abe Woodhull lay on the floor, holding the hand of an old man, who was now dead. Anna Strong sat on the side, holding a bloody, lump of a man, whom Sarah barely recognized as Caleb Brewster. Ben sighed and urged the horses on.

"It's a long story."

Ben explained everything, from Caleb's capture by Benedict Arnold to the plot to exchange him for Woodhull that had gone catastrophically wrong. Sarah looked back at Caleb, who was mumbling and muttering to himself. It broke her heart to see such a strong, joyful man brought so low. Sarah in turn explained how she had come to be where she was, in the condition she was in.

They arrived outside the New Windsor camp the next morning. Ben and Anna carried Abe and his father into the barn. After several minutes, Ben came out alone and took Sarah and Caleb to the camp surgeon.

The tent reeked of blood and infection. Caleb was taken directly to the doctor, while Sarah was led to a nearby bed. The thin straw mattress could have been a feather bed for a good as it felt. A nurse came to inspect her wounds. Blood was crusted to several wounds, although only two of them required stitched. They concluded that she had most likely cracked one of her ribs, and the best thing for her would be lots of bed rest and prayer. She thanked the nurse.

The days slipped by and Sarah began to recover her strength. She was moved to her own tent, next to Caleb's. Ben came by every now and then to check on her progress.

"How is Caleb?" Sarah asked.

"He's right as rain, physically. But it's not his body I'm worried about. Caleb, he's… he's different. In his mind." Sarah nodded. She had seen men driven mad in Quebec from the long winters. It wasn't a pretty sight.

"Caleb is strong. He will rise above it."

"And how are you feeling?" Sarah laughed, which pulled at her stiches and made her side ache.

"I feel like hell. But I'll live."

"Is there anything I can get for you."  
"I need to send a letter to Samuel Townsend."

"Are you sure that's wise? Those men may still be watching him, hoping to get their hands on you for revenge."

"Those men were cowards, deserters. But I do need to make sure that Samuel won't be implicated if someone should investigate the matter. That's what the letter is going to be. I'm going to name myself as the spy. Hopefully it will be enough to divert the blame." Ben nodded.

"I'll see that the letter is sent out myself. Anything else?" Sarah sighed and shifted.

"I can't stay here, Ben. There are people out there who know who I am, and what I am. I need someplace to hide until the war is over."

"Why this sudden urgency to leave?" Sarah looked around nervously. She hadn't wanted to reveal it just yet, because she still wasn't sure, and yet, she could feel the truth of it in her very being and it terrified her, and it thrilled her.

"I'm pregnant."


	22. Chapter 22

Ben stood, unsure what to say or do. Finally, he managed to stutter out an, "Are you sure?"

"I am not about to go into the anatomy of the female body with you, Benjamin Tallmadge, but yes, I am fairly certain."

"It was the Quaker, wasn't it? Lucky bastard." Sarah looked and Ben turned around to see Caleb enter the tent.

"Robert? Robert Townsend?" Ben asked. Sarah feared his heart might give out by the look of distress on his face.

"Ah, don't look so surprised, Tallboy. You didn't see the way he went after Rogers at Thanksgiving. I really thought he might kill the bastard if Sally hadn't stopped him."

"And that is why he can never find out about this, do you understand? If he were to find out, he would come after me, and then his cover would be ruined. He still has important work to do in New York."

"What are we supposed to tell him?" Caleb asked.

"Tell him anything. Tell him… I went to Quebec. I have a farm there, from before."  
"And is that where you will be?" Ben asked. Sarah shook her head.

"Even if the barn is still standing, I have no provisions. It would be dangerous to do alone, but a baby would never survive the winter."

"I don't like it, Sally."

"I'm not asking you to like it, I'm just asking you do it. Please, Caleb." Caleb sighed, but nodded.

"This is all well and good, but I'm afraid you won't be able to stay in camp, Sarah. Hiding your presence was hard enough last time, but with a baby…"

"I know, don't worry. I'm working on it. If only there were some place that I could be sure was hidden."

"I believe I can help you with that," Caleb said. He stood, but Sarah saw the wince when he stretched his shoulders.

"No, Caleb, you need to rest."  
"I'll rest when I'm dead. What I need to do right now is get you, and your little one, someplace safe. Now, are you coming with me or not?"

Sarah followed Caleb south for almost three days, and traveled the last day by boat, until they finally came to an old cabin next to a sheltered bay. Caleb helped Sarah out of the boat and led her inside.

"I stay here sometimes when I trade. There's some bare necessities, but the rest you'll have to hunt down yourself. Think you can manage?" Sarah nodded, silently appraising the one room cabin. There was a cot in the corner, next to the fireplace, and a small table across from the bed. It was a far cry from the Mercer's house, but certainly better than a tent.

"We'll make do," she said, straightening out the fur blanket.

"There's no one around for miles, and no patrols to give you any trouble. You need anything, York City is a day and a half away. You just follow this river east, then cross and cut north and you'll walk right in."

Sarah turned to look at Caleb, realizing that this may be the last time she may ever see him. They had fought together and laughed together. No ne had gone through more with her than he had, but now he was leaving. Their camp could be moved at any time and she would be unable to find them. He could be killed. She banished the thought from her mind. Caleb was too smart, and too damn stubborn to be killed. Sarah rushed up and hugged him.

"If you die before my child is born, I'll kill you," she whispered. Caleb chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest.

"Wouldn't want that, now would we?" He stepped back, taking her in.

She was a wild woman, to be sure. Strong, and quiet, like an old oak tree who could not be shaken. She had braved the long winters of Canada, the heat of battle in New York, and now she was about to face her greatest battle as a mother, alone. Caleb desperately wished he could stay with her and protect her from what was coming. But there was still work to be done, and he was the one who must do it.

"Don't forget me, Caleb," Sarah choked out. Caleb smiled and wiped away her tears.

"I don't see how that's possible, Sarah Roe. But I promise you this; come hell or high water, I'll be back next spring to check in on ye." Sarah nodded and hugged him again. She followed Caleb out to the river and watched him row away, humming an old sailor's tune as he disappeared.


	23. Chapter 23

Months passed. Spring brought flooding that threatened to reach the cabin. The waters were soon dried out by the scorching sun of summer. Sarah's stomach began to grow and it was during the first storm of June that she felt her baby moved. She cried. Summer melted into fall and Sarah harvested the small garden she had managed to grow. The days grew shorter and the nights were cold. Sarah kept close to home, sensing that the time was drawing near.

And then it came, in the early morning hours. The labor was long, and more painful than she could have ever imagined. She cried out for Robert, praying that by some miracle, he would walk through the door. But he did not, and their child was born on a brisk, fall afternoon in the year 1783. She named him Robert, after his father.

The winter of 1783 was so cold, it froze the river. Sarah and her son stayed bundled and warm in their cabin, while outside the snow fell silently. A full year passed with the coming of March, and Sarah began to wonder how longer she could support them both. Their supplies were running low, and Robbie was still too dependent on Sarah for her to leave and trap or hunt or do much of anything. Soon it April, then May, and Sarah was living on fish and wild onions. But she held onto Caleb's promise. She watched and she waited, and at last he came.

Sarah had just finished sweeping out the cabin when she heard the sound of oars on the water, and a voice rising above the birds, singing a bawdy tune. She ran inside to grab, who was playing on the floor and stepped out on the porch to see who it could be.

"Sally!" A familiar voice called. Sarah couldn't stop the beaming smile on her face as she waved and walked down to the shore to greet Caleb. He stepped out, still wearing his sailor's garb, and sporting a close shaven beard.

"Caleb Brewster, look at you."  
"You like it?" Sarah nodded, speechless with joy and relief.

"You're almost respectable," she teased.

"That'll be Annie's doin'."

"Annie?"

"Aye, my wife. Ah, you'd love her Sally; she's a firecracker, just like you." Robbie began to cry, drawing Caleb's attention. "And who's this little fella?" Sarah handed Caleb the crying child, who settled down almost immediately.

"Caleb, this is Robert Townsend Jr."

"Named after your old man, eh? Well, you've got a lot to live up to, little man, on both sides."  
"Oh, he's good boy. Doesn't give momma too much trouble, does he?" Robbie looked up and smiled, reaching for Caleb's beard.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't come earlier, only Washington's been touring the states, and I was obliged to go with him…"

"Touring? Does that mean…" Sarah could scarcely believe it, but Caleb smiled and nodded.

"The war's over. We won." Sarah collapsed to the ground in shock and relief. It was over. No more king, no more soldiers. Her country could finally rest in peace, as could she.

Caleb took Sarah and Robbie up the river to New York. He told her where he was living in Connecticut and they promised to stay in contact. Sarah wasted no time in going to the Mercer House, only to find it under new ownership. The lady of the house, an entirely unfriendly old woman, informed her that the Mercer's had fled to England after the Battle of Yorktown. Sarah asked if Abigail had left a note, or a message for her, but she had not. Sarah was distraught, although she tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that at least Abigail was safe.

Sarah's next stop was the coffeehouse. Caleb had told her about Robert's scheme to switch the signals, ultimately crippling the British fleet. The cost of his victory had been his discovery, by Rivington himself. After his discovery, Robert had disappeared, and no one had heard from him since.

Sarah entered the coffeehouse, which was almost empty save for a few men in the corner. Rivington was behind the bar, and he turned when she came in. When he saw who it was he went ghostly pale.

"Sarah Goodman? Is it really you?" Sarah held Robbie closer and nodded.

"It is really me, Mr. Rivington." Seeing that he made no move to come closer, Sarah went to him. He watched her approach with a look that was almost horrified. "Is something the matter?"

"You're supposed to be dead." Sarah frowned.

"I'm sorry?"

"Dead. After you disappeared, Townsend received a letter from a mutual friend of yours. It said that you had been killed by bandits. But here you are, and with a child no less."

"That is why I am here, Mr. Rivington. And while I wish I could recount to you the full story, I can only tell you this. I am not dead. Robert and I were married secretly, over a year ago, and I am now holding his son in my arms. Do you know where I can find him, Mr. Rivington?" Sarah could see that Rivington had a million question, but instead he sighed in defeat.

"I wish I could help you, my dear, but I'm afraid I don't know. When I discovered your husband's treachery, I made him sign over his half of the business and swear that I would never see him again. He has kept his side of the agreement. Perhaps Mulligan would know. It turns out he was a spy all along, although I imagine you already knew that."

Sarah nodded sadly. She felt sorry for Rivington. He wasn't a bad man, he had simply gotten in over his head. He shook his head.

"You are a mystery, Ms. Goodman."

"Good bye, Mr. Rivington. I wish you the best, truly." Sarah turned and left the coffeehouse, never looking back.

She made her way to Mulligan's emporium, relieved to find it under the same ownership. Sarah walked in and spotted Mulligan working on a suit in the corner. He looked up at her arrival and went slack-jawed.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" Mulligan dropped what he was doing and went to meet her.

"Mr. Mulligan, it is so good to see you safe." Mulligan kissed her hand.

"I believe I have you to thank for it."

"I told you, you would always have an ally in me."

"And I am glad for it, Ms. Goodman." Sarah smiled and showed him her ring.

"It Mrs. Townsend, actually." Mulligan smiled in delight.

"I might have known. Then this must be the young Townsend?" He looked to Robbie, who was soundly asleep.

"Named after his father."  
"And where is your husband, Mrs. Townsend?"

"That is what I would like to know, Mr. Mulligan. I've just come from Rivington's Corner, but Mr. Rivington directed me here. Caleb Brewster says no one has heard from him since the battle of Yorktown." Mulligan nodded.

"I can't say as I know where he's at. But to take a guess, I would say his farm in Oyster Bay. His father passed away not two months ago, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's gone back to the old place."

Sarah couldn't breathe. Samuel Townsend, dead? She felt the blood drain from her face and her head spin. Mulligan helped her to a nearby chair and took the baby from her.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Townsend? Was it something I said?"

"Are you sure Samuel Townsend is dead?" Mulligan suddenly realized why she was so upset and nodded sadly.

"I'm afraid so. He had been under the weather for quite some time and the bout of sickness that went through in March, well, it was too much for him I'm afraid." Sarah nodded and stood, taking her son back.

"Thank you, Mr. Mulligan. I am glad to see you safe and sound."

"And you, Mrs. Townsend. Are you sure you're well enough to travel?" He asked, concern clear in his tone.

"I'll manage. Good bye, Mr. Mulligan."

"Safe journey."


	24. Chapter 24

Sarah walked the now familiar roads towards Long Island. She had to stop periodically to feed Robbie and rest, but she made steady progress and she made Setauket before nightfall. She met by Abe on his way home, and he insisted that she stay the night in their home. Sarah gratefully accepted and slept in a real bed for the first time in days.

"I was sorry to hear what happened to Robert's father. He was a good man," Abe said the next day at breakfast. Sarah nodded, feeding Robbie a bit of porridge. Most of it dribbled down his chin, but he seemed to enjoy it.

"He was like a father to me," Sarah said.

She hurried through her breakfast, eager to be on her way. When she and Robbie had cleaned up, Abe offered to drive her the rest of the way, but she declined, saying the walk would do her good. They sent her off with a little bit of food for lunch, and Sarah set off once again.

Soon the trees began to look familiar. Sarah saw houses every now and again. And then she reached the tree line, overlooking the bay.

"We're almost home, Robbie," she whispered. As they drew near the farm, Sarah began to slow down. Doubt crept into her mind.

So much time had passed. What if they weren't the same people? What if he had already fallen in love with someone else. He did believe her dead, after all. But then Sarah looked down at the child in her arms. Their child. He had his father's round, brown eyes that saw everything. He had her nose, which was just a little too large for his face. Poor boy. But he was theirs. With renewed courage, Sarah traipsed out to the fields where she was told Robert would be.

In the distance, Sarah saw figure. He was tall and straight, laboring in the late afternoon sun. As she drew closer he stopped, and she imagined him looking closer to try and see who she was. Suddenly, he dropped his rake and started walking towards her. Sarah's heart sped up and she held Robbie closer. At last, she could see his face clearly. It was Robert. After all this time, he was finally there.

He approached her cautiously, and she made no move that would startle him. He was dressed only in a loose white shirt, which had been left untied, with his sleeves rolled up. A light sweat beaded his forehead.

"Sarah?" He whispered.

"Hello, Robert," she whispered back. He reached out, hesitating a moment before tracing the side of her face with her fingers. She closed her eyes, feeling the rough pads of his fingertips against her skin.

"It really is you," he whispered. Suddenly, Robbie started crying, drawing his attention. He stared at the child with a look that was impossible to decipher.

"I would like you to meet my son. I name him Robert, after his father." Robert stumbled back, his face pale. Slowly, a small, disbelieving smile spread across his face.

"Son?" He whispered, then looked up at her with tears in his eyes. "I have a son?" Sarah nodded and gently passed Robbie into his father's arms. The child squirmed for a moment, then became transfixed on Robert's face. He reached up, touching his mouth and chin. Sarah reached over and gently wiped away a tear.

"We have a son, Robert." Robert took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

"It seems we have much to discuss. Won't you come inside?" He said. Sarah nodded and the couple walked across the field, towards home.


	25. Epilogue

Epilogue.

Robert and Sarah were legally married one month later. It was a quiet affair, with only close family and friends. All the members of the Culper ring attended, and although he could not make a personal appearance, Washington sent a letter of congratulations and thanks to the couple for their service.

After some protest from Robert, Caleb was made Robbie's godfather. He would often travel across the Sound to visit his godson and they would get into all sorts of mischief together.

The Townsends also remained close friends with the Woodhull's, and their sons grew up to be close friends. They even enlisted together, although Robbie was the only one to make it home. Although they tried, they never had more than their one son who went on to become a very successful merchant.

Robert and Sarah grew old together. They lived out their days in peace on their farm, enjoying the freedom that had been hard fought, and hard won.


End file.
